


Beginnings

by Jade_II



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_II/pseuds/Jade_II
Summary: River grits her teeth, one eye on the rear-view mirror of the expensive hover car. She hadn’t expected the owner to notice its absence so quickly.The city rushes by beneath her, perilously close but she drives the car lower still, darting around buildings and under the bridge that crosses the wide river, looping back over it to try and shake off the police car behind her.That’s when the blonde woman falls out of the sky.





	1. Part I

_Her dress is in tatters._

_This is not unexpected, really – very few pieces of clothing are built to withstand their wearers tumbling down the side of a volcano – but when she sits up in bed, scratches and burns all healed, and sees it lying across from her all torn and charred she sighs sadly._

_“It had a good innings,” the Doctor says from beside her. He tries not to sound too emotional – how can he get emotional about a dress, for goodness’ sake? – he always goes more Scottish when he’s emotional and he’s pretty sure she’s worked that out by now. The look on her face is not helping._

_Then River smiles slowly, and that eases his hearts a little bit. “It did.”_

_“We had our first kiss with you wearing that dress,” he reminds her._

_“Your first kiss.” She elbows him, teasing quietly._

_“Oh yes, I forgot,” he teases back. “_ Your _first kiss poisoned me and then you left me to die.”_

_“Oh, hush.” She stands, gathering the piece of fabric to her._

_With a final sigh, she disposes of it._

_He doesn’t tell her just how much that hurts._

 

*

 

River grits her teeth, one eye on the rear-view mirror of the expensive hover car. She hadn’t expected the owner to notice its absence so _quickly._

 

The city rushes by beneath her, perilously close but she drives the car lower still, darting around buildings and under the bridge that crosses the wide river, looping back over it to try and shake off the police car behind her.

 

That’s when the blonde woman falls out of the sky.

 

She falls into the back seat with a thump, jerking the car out of the smooth curve of its ascent and into an uncontrolled downward keel. River curses as the rear bumper hits the water and sends a spray across the windshield and, worse, all over her head.

 

It’s going to take _ages_ to fix her hair.

 

No time for that now, though. With a growl, River grips the controls and manages to bring the car back out of the water, narrowly avoiding a huge cargo ship and surging back up into the sky. They’ve been turned around, and suddenly she finds herself speeding _towards_ the pursuing police car.

 

“Not good…” she mutters to herself, swerving to avoid crashing straight into the bloody thing. Ahead of her she spots a narrow alleyway between two skyscrapers – time to test the local police force’s driving skills, she thinks.

 

River barrels into the alleyway at speed, leaving the car behind her to turn itself around before it can figure out where she’s gone. Once it does, it hesitates for a full second before pursuing.

 

Good.

 

Keeping as close to the ground as she can, she weaves her way over and under washing lines, window shutters and the occasional pedestrian. The rear bumper – that stupid rear bumper, what is the point of it anyway? – scrapes against something and the noise is maddening, but then the car bursts out into the wider street beyond and River quickly takes it around the nearest corner, and then the next.

 

A few streets father on she dares to take a proper look behind and above her.

 

There’s nothing there. Nothing except for the blonde in the back seat, who is laughing hysterically.

 

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” River remarks, continuing now at a more sedate pace.

 

The laughter subsides gradually as they wind along the roads towards the outskirts of the city. When River pulls up on the roof of the lakeside building she’s been living in for the last couple of weeks, the other woman is asleep.

 

River twists and leans on the back of her seat, contemplating her.

 

Her instinct is to drive her out onto the lake and dump her in. But River’s been questioning her instincts lately; ever since she discovered that her parents had told the Sisters of the Infinite Schism that her name was River Song.

 

Now that the hospital has released her, she’s trying hard to _be_ River Song.

 

It would help, she reflects, if she had a better idea of who River Song was supposed to be.

 

“What _are_ you wearing?” she says suddenly. The woman’s clothes are _far_ too big for her. And… slightly singed?

 

“River?” she mutters.

 

River sits back, a shiver jolting up her spine. “How do you know my name?” she asks suspiciously. Her right hand moves to rest on her thigh, fingers creeping under her dress towards the holster hiding there.

 

“Hmm…?” The other woman is still barely conscious.

 

Frowning, River reaches out to shake her awake. “How do you know my name?” she demands again. “Tell me, or I will start removing your internal organs one by one.”

 

Was that too aggressive?

 

Maybe not. The blonde woman is giggling. “In alphabetical order?” Finally her eyes flutter open, and then widen. “River…”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Er, I…” River sees the wheels behind her eyes finally start turning. “John… Smith?”

 

River scoffs, looking her up and down pointedly. “Yes, that sounds very likely.”

 

“Oh!” The woman’s hands fly to her breasts. “Oh yes! Er… _Joan_ Smith?”

 

“If you say so.” River eyes her, still wary. “What are you doing in my car, Joan Smith?”

 

“In your…” Joan, not that River believes for one second that that’s her real name, struggles into a sitting position and looks around. “Hey! We were being chased by the police!” She raises a finger. “Are you stealing cars again?”

 

That’s enough. River pulls her gun from her holster and points it at the other woman’s head. “All right. I’m going to ask you one more time. How do you know me?”

 

Joan doesn’t look nearly worried enough about the weapon she’s staring down. She just frowns. “How old are you?”

 

“That’s a rather personal question, don’t you think?”

 

The frown deepens. “I know you in the future,” Joan says eventually.

 

River doesn’t know how to respond to that. She tightens her grip on the gun.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Joan says. “I actually… well, I rather like you. And I owe you for saving my life back there. I would have made a pretty big splat on the ground if you hadn’t been there with this lovely stolen car.” She pats the door next to her, as if to reassure it of its loveliness.

 

“We were over the water,” River points out.

 

“Pretty big splash, then.”

 

She looks at River expectantly. River, without quite knowing why, lowers her gun.

 

“Come on, then,” she says, turning abruptly to jump out of the car. “The whole reason I nicked this thing in the first place was because the boot was filled with caviar and champagne. We may as well share.”

 

Joan clambers out and follows her around to the back of the car. She’s not too steady on her feet – perhaps she’s been indulging in too much champagne already. She peers inside as River opens the boot.

 

“Hey, there’s a whole wedding cake in here!”

 

“I’m not sure you can call it _whole_.” It’s been bashed about a fair amount by her… adventurous driving.

 

Joan suddenly seems sombre. “We never had a wedding cake.”

 

Sombre is something River is not in the mood for right now. “Well, we can eat this one. Help me carry this stuff downstairs.”

 

They load up their arms and River steers them both down the fire escape and across the landing to the penthouse suite.

 

“What is this place?” Joan asks, dumping bottles and tins onto the closest table.

 

“Abandoned hotel,” River explains, putting the cake down and straightening it as best she can. “The _Primal Jewel_. It’s in pretty good shape, all things considered.”

 

“Abandoned why?”

 

River turns on the lights – well, the two lanterns she’s placed on the tables. There’s no electricity in here, but their glow is just about enough to chase off the shadows. “They say it’s haunted.”

 

A slow grin spreads over Joan’s face. “Brilliant.”

 

That’s when River knows that she likes her.

 

“Apparently,” she continues, “it was built on the site of an old pirate shipwreck. The legend goes that the captain never left his ship; he’s still here, calling out for his lost treasure, to this day.”

 

“And have you seen this ghost?”

 

River sighs, shaking her head. “Not yet.” She grabs two glasses from the drinks trolley that stands in the corner – she thinks they’re reasonably clean – and pops the cork on the first champagne bottle. “To ghosts,” she declares with a grin, raising the bottle in a toast before she pours.

 

Joan is suddenly pale. “Ghosts,” she mumbles, staring at River as she takes a glass.

 

“You look like you’ve seen one,” River comments, sipping her champagne. It’s exquisite; the guy she stole it from has good taste.

 

“I… kind of have.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The silence before Joan speaks again is uncomfortable; the way she looks at River is perhaps worse. “Nothing,” she says eventually. “It doesn’t matter.” She clears her throat. “Where are we?”

 

River considers pushing, but decides not to – there’s pain behind that face, and the last thing she wants is this woman crying on her shoulder. “I told you, it’s an abandoned hotel. On Lake Sapphire.”

 

“Lake Sapphire.” Joan frowns. “Lake Sapphire on New Earth?”

 

River blinks. “Yes?”

 

The other woman hesitates. “Have you been in a hospital run by the Sisters of the Infinite Schism recently, by any chance?”

 

“Why do you ask?” She tries to keep the dangerous edge out of her voice; best if Joan thinks she trusts her.

 

But Joan only hesitates a fraction of a second this time before shrugging. “Thought I’d seen you there, that’s all.”

 

River isn’t letting go now, though. “What did you mean, you know me in the future?”

 

“I mean I know you in the future. I am well acquainted with future you. But I can’t tell you more than that – spoilers.”

 

“Spoilers,” River repeats. “The Doctor likes that word.”

 

Joan laughs. “Yeah? He learnt it from you.”

 

River’s heart leaps into her throat, and she forces it back down. “You know the Doctor?”

 

“In a manner of speaking.” She sips her champagne. “Oh!” She looks surprised. “That’s nice!”

 

River finds herself giggling, and decides to push the Doctor back to the dark recesses of her mind where he belongs. He’s too much to deal with right now; she’d rather ignore him and have some fun.

 

“Let’s eat the cake,” she declares.

 

“What about the caviar?” Joan asks, bright-eyed.

 

River eyes it dubiously. “I’ve actually never had it before. Looks disgusting.”

 

“It does. Let’s try it!”

 

Their feast lasts well into the early hours of the morning. Joan eats so much that she throws up – which makes her break into hysterical laughter again, which she follows immediately by stuffing her face again.

 

She toasts the glory of cake multiple times before suddenly and literally falling asleep on her feet, just as the sun is rising over the lake.

 

River watches her as she finishes her last glass of champagne, wondering when she’ll topple over.

 

She doesn’t.

 

Frowning, River decides to go and sleep in another room.

 

\- - -

 

She’s woken by the sound of running water.

 

River frowns. She’s never been able to get any of the plumbing to work. What magic is Joan weaving?

 

Stretching, she checks that all her weapons are still in place and then rolls out of the generously sized bed and goes to investigate.

 

The sound gets louder as she climbs the stairs back up to the top floor. And then the singing starts.

 

River can’t make out the words, but it’s mesmerising. Before she knows what she’s doing she’s leaning against the doorframe of the penthouse’s bathroom, watching Joan’s silhouette through the steamed-up glass of the shower cubicle.

 

She feels like she should understand the words. Instead, a wave of emotion washes over her – longing, loss. Hope.

 

The singing continues even when the water stops, and River doesn’t pull herself together enough to slip back out of the room before the shower door opens and Joan steps out onto the tiled floor, naked and wet and glorious.

 

Her apology dies in her throat when Joan looks up with an expression of pleasant surprise. “Ah, River! What do you say to hunting down this ghost?”

 

“Er…” She blinks, making herself focus on the input from her ears rather than her eyes. “Sounds great.” She blinks again, but she can’t stop staring. “Er, how?”

 

“I have a hunch.” The glee in her voice is almost too much to bear, and River is glad when Joan finally dries herself off and starts to pull her clothes back on.

 

“Don’t you want something else to wear?” River ventures. She’s amazed the other woman hasn’t tripped over her own trousers yet.

 

Something like wonder blossoms on Joan’s face. “You mean… I could wear your clothes?”

 

“Well.” River shrugs. “Most of my things fell off the back of a lorry, if you know what I mean.”

 

Joan frowns. “They don’t have lorries on this planet at this point in history.”

 

“…Okay. Never mind about that, then.” She steps aside, glad to be out of the bathroom – she’s never going to be able to set foot in here again without reliving Joan stepping out of the shower. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, but it is a very _distracting_ thing. “This way.”

 

She crosses the spacious living area and pushes open the double doors to the main bedroom, where her loot hangs in the wardrobe, and proceeds to pull items out and chuck them onto the huge bed. “Try some of these.”

 

A funny look crosses Joan’s face as she steps forward, stretching her hand out towards a heap of dull brownish fabric that River doesn’t even remember nicking. Joan grasps the thing in her fingers and pulls it up off the bed to reveal a parachute dress. River doesn’t think the thing warrants the awed look on Joan’s face but she nods encouragingly. “Go on, then. Try it.”

 

Moving almost as though she’s in a trance, Joan strips back out of the oversized suit and pulls the dress over her head. The dress is also too big for her, though not quite so noticeably, but the expression on her face as she looks down at herself is of pure joy.

 

“It suits you,” River says. Anything would suit this woman.

 

Joan sighs, smiling. “No. This is yours.”

 

“Wellll, it’s not really, is it? You have it.”

 

“No,” Joan says, more firmly. “This is for you to wear. You try it.” She’s already slipping out of it, and River takes it when she holds it out mostly just to distract herself from Joan’s complete lack of underwear.

 

“Try this, then,” River says, reaching for the next closest item – some kind of trousers – and blindly shoving them in Joan’s direction. River turns away as she strips out of her tank top and tracksuit bottoms to try the dress.

 

It’s not until she’s pulling it down and smoothing the sides that she realises she’s put herself in front of the mirror.

 

River looks at herself, gaping.

 

_Show me River Song_ , says Amy’s voice in her head.

 

She _knows_ this dress.

 

“You really do know me in the future,” River blurts, turning abruptly to find Joan pulling some ghastly striped top over her head.

 

Joan’s face pops out and she looks River up and down, eyes glinting.

 

“Told you,” she says.

 

\---

 

Neither of them feels like eating any more cake or caviar so, after a glass of champagne for breakfast, they decide to troop around the hotel in search of the ghost.

 

“Isn’t ghost hunting usually a more nocturnal sort of activity?” River says after a while, poking her head into a hotel room identical to the other five dozen they’ve investigated so far.

 

“Is it?” says Joan, who doesn’t seem at all perturbed by the identical-ness. She looks at every room with the same fascination as the first one. “How many ghosts have you hunted?”

 

“This is my first,” River admits, moving on to the next room. Which looks the same. What a surprise. “So far it isn’t as exciting as I’d expected.”

 

“Yes, well, your standards for excitement have always been on the high side.”

 

River shakes her head. “It’s weird when you talk like that.”

 

“Are you denying it?” Joan grins.

 

So does River. “Not at all.”

 

They continue their slow trek down the corridor of identical rooms. River is more entertained by Joan than by anything else. She can’t think why, but she reminds her of someone. Even if she does have the most bizarre fashion sense.

 

River’s stomach is trying to tell her it would like some proper breakfast when it happens. A male voice suddenly drifts up from the floor below, first quite loud and then quickly fading.

 

“Diamond!” it calls frantically. “My diamond…”

 

River and Joan look at each other, and the anticipation dancing in Joan’s eyes is absolutely riveting.

 

She grabs River’s hand and pulls her down the stairs.

 

The man’s legs come into view first, descending from the ceiling and focussing just as the rest of him follows, showing them a clear image of his distraught face before he blurs as he sinks into the floor. “Diamond!” he says again. “My diamond…”

 

A moment later the scene repeats.

 

“Aha!” says Joan.

 

“Aha?” River echoes, transfixed by the sight of her first ghost.

 

“ _That_ is not a ghost.”

 

River frowns. “Then what the hell is it?”

 

“You smell that?” Joan sniffs, as if to demonstrate. “That’s time travel.”

 

“How can you _smell_ time travel?” River demands, reminding herself that she doesn’t know this woman at all and she may be a bit crazy. Or that she may be here for the specific purpose of driving River a bit crazy.

 

Fortunately, River’s always been a bit crazy.

 

“Close your eyes,” Joan instructs, and she reaches again for River’s hand. Against her better judgement, River does as she’s told. There’s something in Joan’s touch, something more than just physical… “Now breathe in,” Joan instructs. “Ignore the smell of damp, that’s everywhere. _Underneath_ that, that’s where time is hiding. Smells like precious metals and old tombs and dusty books.”

 

“…Oh.”

 

It’s not just the fact that River smells it when it’s pointed out to her. It’s the fact that she knows instinctively that it’s true.

 

“Huh,” she says, opening her eyes as the man descends from the ceiling again.

 

“Yeah,” says Joan, with relish. She doesn’t, River notices, let go of her hand.

 

“What’s going on, then?”

 

Again, the man calls for his diamond before fading from view.

 

“At a guess,” Joan says, “and I’m very good at guesses… it’s a time loop.”

 

“A time loop?” River repeats. “What, like in Groundhog Day?”

 

“Exactly. Well, no, not really, but close enough.” She looks at River, anticipation lighting up her face. “Are you ready?”

 

“Ready for whaaaa—“

 

She’s cut off by Joan breaking into a run and pulling her straight _into_ the ghost.

 

And suddenly she’s on a ship, the deck lurching beneath her feet, and the captain interrupts his cries for his diamond and stomps towards them.

 

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, silhouetted against the smoke billowing from the burst duct behind him. “What have you done to my ship?”

 

River gapes, but Joan flashes a bit of paper and responds smoothly, “Customs Officer Smith, at your service. May I ask what kind of cargo you’re carrying?”

 

The captain, impressively, gapes.

 

“I’d like to inspect your hold, please,” Joan continues.

 

“You know what?” the man says at length. “Sure. Go ahead. We’re all going to crash and burn and die in ten minutes anyway.”

 

He shakes his head and continues down the corridor.

 

Joan smiles like he’s just given her the keys to his kingdom. The kingdom that isn’t going to crash and burn and die in ten minutes. “Come on, then,” she says. “This is an R-42 hauler, if I’m any judge. The hold should be this way.”

 

River follows, but she can’t help but ask, “What about the crashing thing he just mentioned?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Her confidence is… quite inspirational.

 

River feels a grin spread over her face, and a tingle of adrenaline spreads from her head to her toes.

 

\---

 

Joan whoops when they reach the hold and she sees its contents. “Right first time!”

 

“What are they?” River demands, pushing past her to examine the long, slim boxes. They look like watch boxes… not that River has stolen more than a couple of brand-new watches in her time. They’re so much easier to just slip off someone’s wrist.

 

“Vortex manipulators,” Joan declares, pulling one out. It even looks like a watch. “Cheap time travel. And like most things cheap, prone to all kinds of nasty malfunctions.” She goes to shove the thing back in the box, but seems to reconsider at the last minute and pockets it instead.

 

“So the time loop is something to do with these?” River concludes.

 

“Yep. Just need to figure out what.” She frowns. “Unfortunately, I think our time is about up.”

 

River had forgotten about the ten minutes. It’s been nine and a half.

 

“How do we get out of here?”

 

Joan grins, and River notices an unsettling flash of mania in her expression. “We kind of don—“

 

\---

 

—and she’s on her back, gasping for breath. Back in the corridor – she can hear the captain still calling for his diamond – a hand grasps hers and she turns her head to see Joan lying next to her, still grinning.

 

Something feels… wrong.

 

“Did we just _die_?” River demands, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

 

“Yeah.” Joan nods, using her free hand to dust herself off. “But don’t worry about it. Time loop.”

 

“…Right.” She’s not going to mention how very worried about it she is, then.

 

Besides, that’s when they realise that the captain is standing over them, staring.

 

“Hello!” Joan says brightly, but he’s already gesturing to somebody else and before River’s quite got her head sorted out she and Joan are being dragged around the corner and thrown in the brig.

 

“Was this part of the plan?” River demands, after a moment. The door swishes shut after their captors and she turns on her heel to stare at Joan.

 

“Not exactly,” Joan admits, sitting and leaning against the wall. “We’ll have to do better next time.”

 

“Next time? I don’t want to die again!”

 

“Not much we can do about that.” Joan shrugs. “Sorry.”

 

“Sorry? You’re getting me killed twice in one day and all you can say is ‘sorry’?”

 

The other woman grimaces. “Probably more than twice, realistically speaking.”

 

River is speechless for a moment. She allows herself to sink to the floor opposite Joan as, grudgingly, she admits to herself that she’s impressed. She’s never met someone so… so much like _herself_ before.

 

“So what do we do next?” she asks, after a moment.

 

“Wait for the reset. Do better next time. Try to replicate what we did the first time, that was better.”

 

“Not much could be worse than landing in the brig,” River points out.

 

“They could have just shot us.”

 

“…Fair point.”

 

Joan nods absently, looking at River with a look she can’t quite decipher. She does it for long enough that River starts to feel uncomfortable.

 

“What?” she demands eventually. “Why are you staring at me?”

 

Joan’s nod turns into a slow shake of the head, accompanied by a smile. “I’m just really happy to see you. River Song.”

 

River hesitates, but the prospect of her life ending in a couple of minutes – even if it isn’t permanent – somehow drives her to blurt, “No one’s ever been happy to see me before.”

 

To her surprise, Joan snorts. “That’s so far from the truth, you have no idea.”

 

River’s defences go back up. “What do you know?”

 

Joan just laughs. “Spoilers.”

 

River can’t think of a response to that before they explode again.

 

\---

 

They do better again the next time. They’re both on their feet as soon as they reset – River’s slightly wobbly, but that might be the champagne she had on an empty stomach – and Joan wields her magical piece of paper with success.

 

So they’re back in the hold, with three minutes to go.

 

“What are we looking for?” River demands, surveying the stacks of boxes.

 

“Use your nose,” Joan instructs. “Something in here is doing something to time. Maybe one of the manipulators is malfunctioning, maybe more than one. Maybe they’re interfering with some other piece of tech. Look for anything that seems off. Or don’t just look – smell, hear, feel. Taste!”

 

She licks one of the boxes. River makes a face. “You can do the tasting, thanks.”

 

Joan flashes her another of her blinding grins, unperturbed.

 

River heads for the computer terminal on the wall and calls up the inventory programme. There’s an option in the menu for a diagnostic scan, so she decides to give it a try.

 

It doesn’t turn up anything on the manipulators. But…

 

“Would you say it’s unusually hot in here?” River asks.

 

“Is this an innuendo?” Joan asks. She’s still putting things in her mouth, to River’s bemusement. “Or a pick-up line?”

 

This is probably the least sexy thing she’s seen Joan do so far, but still, River’s definitely not going to say no to this woman. “Would you like it to be?” she asks, lowering her voice. She has, she realises, definitely not tried out the whole range of things that this new voice might be able to do.

 

Another grin, and Joan finally turns away from her taste test. “Always.”

 

That’s when they explode again.

 

They lie next to each other in the corridor after the reset, turning their heads at the same moment to meet each other’s eyes. Joan’s are twinkling fiercely.

 

So that’s how they miss their moment again and get dumped in the brig, again.

 

“You need to stop flirting with me,” Joan declares. Her tone of voice says the complete opposite. “It’s terribly distracting.”

 

River scoffs, playing along. “You started it.”

 

“You were the one going on about how hot you were.”

 

“That is not, actually, what I said.”

 

“Wasn’t it? It should have been.”

 

That makes River grin. “You’re good at this,” she remarks.

 

“I learned from the best.”

 

“And who’s that?”

 

Joan fixes her with a look. “River Song.”

 

River bursts out laughing and, after a moment, Joan joins in. They spend what seems like a good long moment in hysterics before River catches her breath enough to say, “I was serious, though. About the heat. The diagnostic scanner was reading a temperature of over sixty degrees Celsius.”

 

“Did it…” Joan breathes, suddenly focussed again.

 

“I didn’t feel it though. The only thing I can think of is that it’s a local temperature increase in the vicinity of the scanner.”

 

“River Song, you’re a genius. Now,” Joan instructs, “When we reset, we get straight back up and run down to that hold, okay?”

 

“Whatever you say,” River agrees.

 

\---

 

They only manage it by knocking out the two heavies, Joan having waved her bit of paper a tad too enthusiastically in the captain’s direction this time. He’s gone when they look around them, probably still wandering the ship in search of his diamond.

 

Joan practically bounces into the room, rubbing her palms together as she looks around. She picks a direction, goodness knows how, and starts emptying all the boxes in that corner of the room. “Help me, would you?” she demands, without looking up.

 

Nonplussed, River does as she’s told. She shakes manipulator after manipulator out of their boxes, wondering idly how much money she’s throwing around right now – she secretes a couple of them in her pockets while Joan isn’t looking, just in case – with no idea of what she’s looking for.

 

Joan is clearly getting frustrated until River reaches out for the next box and then yelps, pulling her hand away. This one is burning hot.

 

“Ha!” Joan yells, paying no heed to River’s displeased inspection of her fingertips, which have turned bright red. “What have we here?”

 

She uses another, unopened box to nudge this one onto the floor, where it falls open. The vortex manipulator inside is glowing orange and… pulsing?

 

“It looks like it’s coming in and out of existence,” River says, momentarily distracted from her burns.

 

“It is.” Joan nods. “Whoever wore this last didn’t disengage from it properly. It thinks it’s still supposed to be attached to their wrist – it’s trying to find them.”

 

“What’s stopping it?”

 

Joan’s face is grim. “Probably the fact that whoever it is is about to die.”

 

\---

 

They end up in the brig again on their next round, too distracted to jump up and go when they come back to life. River is glad – she could use ten minutes to get her head around this.

 

“So…” she says.

 

Joan is fiddling with the vortex manipulator she’s pulled from her pocket, but she nods. “Mmhmm?”

 

“It can’t find whoever it is because they’re about to die – but how does it _know_ they’re about to die? Why should that make a difference?”

 

“It doesn’t know. But because their timestream is cut off in the immediate future its temporal locking mechanism can’t function properly. It’s trying to sweep search through a limited amount of past and future – it’s a failsafe mechanism because of all the other complications that can crop up with this kind of time travel. Did I mention that it’s cheap and dangerous, by the way, and you shouldn’t use it? Anyway, there’s not enough future for it to sweep through, so it’s confused.”

 

“So what do we do now?” River asks. She’s been operating on the assumption that they’re here to fix something. She’s only now wondering where that assumption has come from – aren’t they just here for a bit of fun?

 

“Find out who was wearing that manipulator, disengage them, end the time loop,” Joan recites, not looking up.

 

“What happens when it ends? Won’t we crash and burn and die permanently if things stop resetting?”

 

“That,” Joan nods, “I haven’t quite figured out yet. I’m working on it.”

 

“Can I work on it too?”

 

For some reason that makes her laugh. “River Song, I’m half surprised you haven’t pulled something out of your sleeve already.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that? I don’t know anything about any of this!”

 

“So?” Joan still isn’t looking at her – instead, she’s prised open the casing of the vortex manipulator and is squinting at its insides. “You’ve got one of the finest minds in the galaxy and you live and breathe time. Concentrate.” She shrugs. “Do a thing.”

 

“A thing?”

 

“Yeah. One of your River Song things.”

 

River sits back, frowning. She has now idea how Joan can have so much faith in her. Of course, she could by lying.

 

River really doesn’t want her to be lying.

 

Gritting her teeth, she pulls one of the manipulators from her own pocket and pops the casing off the back. The mechanism inside is surprisingly crude – no wonder Joan calls it cheap time travel – clearly prioritising size and ease of production over anything else. It doesn’t take her more than a few minutes to figure out how it works.

 

Unfortunately, that’s when they blow up again.

 

\---

 

River huffs, pushing herself to her feet. Joan is standing too, magic paper in her hand and already calling out to the captain.

 

The vortex manipulator is still in River’s hand, somehow. She wonders if that isn’t contributing to the destabilisation of time, here – there must be an identical version of this very device sitting in the hold at this very moment. Surely bringing things with her from one loop to the next should cause extra complications?

 

Not that she’s complaining. She’s quite glad she hasn’t got to go and dig it out every time time resets.

 

Joan has finished talking to the captain, who wanders past River, muttering. River heads in the direction of the hold but Joan grabs her hand and pulls her the other way. “New task, now,” she says in a low voice. “Find whoever was wearing that manipulator.”

 

“How do we do that?” River wants to know, following her lead.

 

“Shouldn’t be too hard. Their wrist is probably glowing, with a manipulator on it fading in and out of existence.”

 

She’s right, it doesn’t sound too hard.

 

But it is.

 

Ten minutes of wandering the corridors and the only person they’ve seen is a woman running in the opposite direction, not even stopping to stare at the two strangers. River doesn’t think anything was wrong with her wrist but it was hard to tell at that speed.

 

Then they crash and burn and die again.

 

Joan goes through the same routine with the paper on the next round, choosing a different corridor to explore.

 

This time they don’t see anyone at all.

 

When the third time comes around and they round a corner onto yet another empty hallway, River decides she’s had enough.

 

“There’s got to be a better way to do this.”

 

“Like what?” Joan asks. “It’s okay, we’ve got all the time in the world to find whoever it is.”

 

“As long as they’re within a ten minute walk of this part of the ship,” River counters. “Any farther away and we’ll never get to them in time.”

 

“…Good point,” Joan concedes.

 

River nods. “There’s a hold full of other vortex manipulators,” she says. “That sounds like an awful lot of power. We must be able to use that somehow.”

 

“You’re right.” Joan nods too, immediately heading back towards the hold. “We’ve got hundreds of time sensitive devices; we just need to find a way to use that sensitivity to find the person we’re looking for.”

 

“We need something to focus the signals through, something that won’t shatter with the high frequency,” River suggests.

 

They both stop walking at the same moment and look at each other.

 

“Something like…” says Joan, looking back the way they came.

 

River follows her gaze. “…a diamond?” she finishes.

 

They start walking back up the corridor without exchanging any more words; after a few moments they move straight on to the practical details.

 

“It depends on how it’s cut, of course,” says Joan.

 

“And on the size, naturally,” River adds. “No good if it’s too small.”

 

“And its clarity as well. Though it must be a pretty special diamond for the captain to be roaming the ship looking for it at a moment like this.”

 

“Or he’s just a pretty special kind of captain,” says River.

 

“Or that.”

 

They reach the very familiar part of hallway where they keep coming back to life, and River frowns. “Do we go in the direction he goes in? Does he actually have a good idea of where the diamond might be? He looks pretty forlorn when he walks down here.”

 

“What other option do we have?” Joan shrugs. “It’s as good a place to start as any.”

 

They don’t get far before they die, anyway.

 

\---

 

River wakes up and jumps up, closely followed by Joan, who tries a new tactic with the captain.

 

“My diamond…” he says, wandering up.

 

Joan grabs him by the shoulders the moment he notices her. “Do you need help, captain?” she asks. “Can we help to find your diamond?”

 

To River’s horror, he breaks into tears. “Please,” he whispers. “Yes, please help.”

 

“That’s what we’re here for,” Joan promises.

 

So they find themselves creeping down the corridor at his stumbling pace, Joan supporting him every few paces as he threatens to tumble.

 

“Diamond!” he calls desperately through every doorway. He repeats the word over and over as he checks under tables and behind doors – but not, River notes, in any drawers or cabinets or otherwise lockable containers.

 

“He’s not really looking in any of the places where _I_ might hide a diamond,” she remarks to Joan in an undertone.

 

Joan is already frowning. “I know. You don’t think…?”

 

They explode again before she can finish the sentence.

 

\---

 

The moment they wake up, Joan is upright and ploughing past the captain and down the same corridor they’ve just searched. “Let’s find this diamond, then,” she declares, and River thinks that’s probably the only reason the captain doesn’t sic his heavies on them again.

 

Once she’s reasonably sure they’re not going to grab her, she hurries after Joan.

 

Joan is doing a much speeded-up version of the captain’s search routine; tables, doors, bathrooms… “Do you think you’re going to find anything like this?” River demands when she catches up. It seems like such a colossal waste of time… not that they don’t have time to waste, she supposes.

 

“No,” Joan says, running to the next room to perform the same search. They’re already farther along than they managed to get in the captain’s company,

 

“Then why—?”

 

“Not any _thing_ ,” Joan clarifies.

 

“You think a _person_ has got the diamond,” River concludes. Well, that makes sense…

 

Someone groans nearby.

 

River and Joan look at each other.

 

As one, they rush through the next door. There’s a woman lying there in the middle of the room, under a fallen piece of ceiling panelling, the rumbling of the crashing ship masking most of her quiet, suffering sounds… no wonder the captain didn’t hear her before.

 

Joan is kneeling at her side in an instant. “Can you hear me?” she asks, gently but firmly. “I’m… I’m Joan. What’s your name?”

 

“Diamond,” breathes the woman. “Diamond Fairchild.”

 

Joan looks back at River. “Oh…”

 

It’s River who notices the other thing. “Her wrist…” she says quietly.

 

There’s an orange glow peeking out from under the panelling.

 

“Oh,” Joan says again. She frowns, and turns back to the woman. “Diamond,” she says, “what’s happened to your wrist?”

 

Diamond screws her face up. “I was only trying it out… I didn’t mean to break it…”

 

“No,” says Joan. “No, of course you didn’t.” She sighs. “The thing is,” she continues, “That’s probably what’s causing the ship to crash. It’s interfering with the engines, they’re not sure where or when they are any more so they’ve shut down in protest. We need to fix it. We need to take you back down to the hold and put that vortex manipulator back on your wrist, so that we can take it off again properly.”

 

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” says a voice at the doorway.

 

River, gasping, whirls to see the captain standing there with a blaster in his hand.

 

“Leave her alone,” he says. “She needs a doctor.”

 

Joan opens her mouth but then closes it again, slowly stepping away from the injured woman. “We just want to help,” she says. “She didn’t disengage the vortex manipulator properly when she took it off, that’s what’s causing all this trouble. We need to get it back on her wrist or this ship is going to crash.”

 

River looks at the captain’s face, and then back at Joan. He’s not going to budge, River can tell that – can Joan?

 

Diamond is only about two metres away. River puts her hand in her pocket and closes it around one of the manipulators still hiding there, making calculations in her mind.

 

It’s her best shot, she concludes.

 

Pulling it out and slapping it onto the opposite wrist in one smooth motion, River runs towards Diamond, reaching out to grab her hand.

 

Joan yells, then jumps, then yelps, then falls in front of River as blaster fire hits the wall on the other side of the room.

 

Then the ship crashes and they all die anyway.

 

\---

 

River comes back with a gasp this time, turning frantically to Joan to make sure she’s still alive. It’s only when Joan looks back at her with eyes just as wide that River manages to draw breath, gasping with relief.

 

Joan laughs, but River looks at her accusingly. “Did you just jump in front of a gun for me?” she demands.

 

“I may have done,” Joan admits.

 

“That’s…” River falters, searching for the right words to describe how angry and touched and _disbelieving_ she feels. “That’s not something you should do.”

 

“You would do it for me.”

 

River scoffs. “No, I wouldn’t.”

 

“I almost wish that were true.”

 

Which is when the heavies grab them and drag them to the brig again.

 

“Seriously,” River says when they’re alone. “Why did you do that? We’re in a time loop! It was about to reset anyway, I would have come right back to life.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I can just watch you die, River.” Suddenly she looks old, and tired, and sad, and River is scared.

 

“Why not?” she says defensively. “What’s so special about me?”

 

Joan smiles, but her voice still sounds as though she might cry. “Everything.”

 

River feels tears stinging the backs of her eyes – tears of frustration or confusion, she doesn’t even know. “I don’t understand!” she complains.

 

And now Joan is actually crying. A single tear slides down her cheek even as she still, inexplicably, smiles. “You will,” she says softly.

 

A silence stretches between them, filled with some kind of tension River has never experienced before – like hope and regret all bundled up together in a ball of uncertainty. “I don’t even know who I am any more,” she sighs eventually. “Let alone who I’m supposed to be.”

 

Joan nods slowly. “I know exactly how you feel.”

 

River swallows. “How do we find out?”

 

“We try ourselves and test ourselves until we know. That’s usually how it works, one way or another.”

 

Another silence fills the air as they both reflect on this.

 

“I don’t want the ship to crash,” River says eventually. Even though she can’t really articulate _why_ – Mels wouldn’t have cared half as much – somehow she knows this to be the truth.

 

“No,” Joan agrees. “Me neither.”

 

River looks at her, and squares her shoulders. “Then let’s do something about it.”

 

\--

 

The next time they wake up, they split up.

 

Joan runs to find Diamond again, hoping for a better head start on the captain this time, while River makes her way to the hold full of vortex manipulators. She digs the defective one out again – more carefully now, her fingertips are still stinging from the last time – and puts it in the middle of the floor, clearing some space around it. Then she turns her attention to the others.

 

A single one of these can transport three or four people. A whole room full of them… should be more than enough for what she has in mind.

 

River pulls the vortex manipulator from her pocket; as long as it doesn’t physically touch its counterpart in this iteration the loop should be fine, according to Joan. If she can be trusted on this. If she can be trusted on anything, River reminds herself, though she’s finding it more and more difficult to stay suspicious.

 

The manipulator in her hand has already been rigged to send out a signal to the rest; she just has to wait for the right moment.

 

So she waits.

 

River hates waiting. She’s never been very good at the whole patience thing.

 

So the first couple of minutes are just the usual discomfort that comes from doing nothing. She’s used to that. It’s agonising, but it’s familiar.

 

The next few minutes, when she’s sure that Joan should be here already, are much harder.

 

She begins to pace up and down the hold, trying to concentrate on keeping her breath calm and steady. She briefly wonders if she should go and check on Joan, but that might mess up the programming for the manipulators, so she doesn’t. Ridiculously, and even though she _knows_ that the worst thing likely to happen is that they end up back where they started, she starts to worry for Joan’s safety; this unfamiliar feeling takes her by surprise and she’s just wondering what the hell it means and how she’s supposed to react to it when there’s a flash and Joan is in front or her, holding a barely conscious Diamond by the hand.

 

“Quick,” Joan says. “Help me get her over there.”

 

So River doesn’t let on how relieved she is and picks up one of Diamond’s arms instead, pulling her to the centre of the room where the glowing manipulator lies on the floor.

 

The moment Diamond gets near it it leaps onto her wrist, sealing smoothly around it and losing its glow. Going by the lack of burning flesh it’s lost its heat as well. It’s just another manipulator again.

 

“River, now!” Joan yells, and River suddenly becomes aware of the time, the precious few seconds between now and what will be the ship’s final crash now that the interference is neutralised.

 

She grips her manipulator and presses the button.

 

And she’s falling.

 

This was _not_ part of the plan.

 

The lake is beneath her, Lake Sapphire; she can see the hotel. The water is far away but quickly getting closer. Above it, a ship is firing its engines, heading for the shore and _up_ rather than down – that part of the plan has worked, at least.

 

River wants to sigh with relief but the wind howling around her as she falls is making it hard to breathe.

 

There’s a flash beside her in the air, and Joan grabs her wrist.

 

Laughter is very difficult too, but somehow they both manage it.

 

“You caught me!” River shouts in disbelief.

 

Joan shouts back, “I always do!”

 

Then River spots someone else, falling above them.

 

“That’s Diamond!” she cries. Her mind races and she remembers the vortex manipulator that she too is wearing.

 

A flash and they’re falling alongside the other woman. Joan grabs her and River enters new coordinates again, and they flash once more back onto the ship, back into the ship, back into the same corridor where they were reborn so many times.

 

Diamond rushes into the captain’s arms, and Joan spirits them away again before the two of them can intrude further on the reunion.

 

\--

 

They land in the lake.

 

River is reluctant to let go of Joan but it’s that or drown; her water-logged clothes are trying to drag her down into the cold depths.

 

They both cough and splutter as they strike out for land – fortunately they didn’t splash down right in the middle of the lake and it’s only a few hundred metres’ cold slog before they’re crawling out onto the rocky beach. River lets herself collapse onto the ground and rolls onto her back, ignoring the pebbles digging into her skin.

 

The ship is just visible far above them as it clears the atmosphere and returns to outer space.

 

Joan flops down beside her and reaches for her hand. River doesn’t protest.

 

“You know when you fell into my car?” she says eventually.

 

“Yes?” says Joan.

 

“Was it because of something like this?”

 

She can hear the grin in Joan’s voice as she replies. “Broadly speaking, yes.”

 

River grins too – and wonders how much she’s grinned already, in this woman’s company. It seems like a lot.

 

“I knew I liked you.”

 

\--

 

River shoots a fish for their dinner and they head back to the hotel to cook it, climbing back up to the roof to build a fire for the purpose. Of course she stinks after carrying the thing all the way from the lake, so River treats herself to a shower in the newly re-plumbed bathroom while Joan turns the fish on a makeshift spit.

 

It’s been quite a day.

 

There are so many things in River’s head that she wants to take out and analyse and make her mind up about, but she doesn’t even know where to begin. But she feels like Joan’s arrival is the beginning of a whole new chapter for her.

 

When she steps out onto the tiled floor and remembers Joan doing the same – was it only this morning? – she half imagines a scenario where their roles are reversed and Joan walks in on her. And she notes that the thought doesn’t displease or discomfit her in the slightest.

 

Such a shame it’s only happening in her head.

 

River dresses in the parachute dress, because Joan seemed to like it, and follows her nose back out into the main room of the suite, where Joan has somehow found plates and utensils and is dishing up the fish.

 

“That smells _good_ ,” River says appreciatively, approaching the table. Her growling stomach reminds her that she hasn’t actually eaten yet today.

 

“Should taste good too,” Joan comments smugly. “Lake Sapphire trout are considered to be a delicacy.”

 

“I didn’t know that,” River admits. “Always love a delicacy.”

 

“That’s what I thought.” Joan sets a plate in front of River with a flourish and pulls out a chair for her. “Madame,” she says with a little bow.

 

River giggles despite herself – honestly, she didn’t even _know_ this body could giggle. “Merci beaucoup.”

 

She opens another bottle of champagne as Joan sits down across from her. In the light from the lantern on the table it’s almost… romantic. They tuck into their meal, and Joan’s right – the fish is delicious, even just roasted over a fire. With some sauce and seasoning it must be exquisite. River closes her eyes as she imagines it, and when she opens them again she catches Joan looking at her.

 

There are too many things going on in her eyes for River to even begin to decipher.

 

“Who are you?” she asks instead. “Who are you really?”

 

Joan is silent for so long that River thinks she isn’t going to answer. When she does, the look in her eyes doesn’t change even though her smile widens.

 

“I can’t really tell you,” she says. “Too much potential for messy, broken timey stuff. But I’m someone who cares very much about you, River Song. Always.”

 

River really doesn’t know what to say to that. But what she really, really doesn’t know is why she believes it.

 

Hesitantly, she puts her hand over Joan’s on the table.

 

They both look at their hands, and not at each other.

 

And then River tightens her grip and suddenly they’re both standing, and they barely hesitate at all before they reach out with all their hands and they kiss.

 

River doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the gentle eagerness with which Joan pulls her close and slowly explores her open mouth, running her tongue across every part as though she’s cataloguing it for future reference. River almost feels that she doesn’t have to do anything at all; doesn’t have to but she _wants_ to, and she whimpers fervently and tries to kiss back with the same reverence.

 

No one has ever kissed her like that before.

 

They stand there for a long time, nipping at each other’s lips and patiently running hands and fingertips over clothing and skin. River is seized with an urge to rip that horrible striped top right off of Joan’s body and she forces herself to ignore it, to be as patient as she can possibly be because this is something she wants to get _right_.

 

She’s never cared so much about getting it right before, either.

 

Joan is the one who makes the next move, reaching for the zip on River’s dress and pulling it down just far enough to expose her bra. She strokes the skin along its lacy edge with one fingertip and her breath hitches in her throat at the same time as River’s; River swallows hard when that fingertip reaches inside and very slowly circles her nipple.

 

She feels Joan’s lips smile against hers. She hums and River moans, pulling her closer, trapping Joan’s hand between them until Joan pushes back and River finds herself sitting back in her chair with Joan climbing delicately on top of her.

 

Their lips meet again and they kiss more urgently this time, and River realises she isn’t the only one who’s impatient; Joan is just better at reining herself in. She pulls her hand back out of River’s bra – River is _not_ happy about that – and cups River’s cheek instead, her touch feather light. Her fingertip traces River’s cheekbone and up across the shell of her ear; then she pulls back again to gently bop the tip of her nose, and breaks into her widest grin yet.

 

It’s adorable.

 

River is far too impatient for very much more of this though, so she finally allows herself to grab that awful striped top by the hem and pull it up and over Joan’s head, surreptitiously throwing it as far away as she possibly can.

 

She’d almost forgotten that Joan wasn’t wearing underwear.

 

Almost.

 

Delighted, River reaches out.

 

Joan’s skin is soft and smooth and perfect, as if it’s brand new. She watches River’s hands moving across it with her mouth slightly agape, her gaze precisely following each movement. River grins, watching her, running her fingers slowly across every inch of her. The noise Joan makes when River grazes her nipple is delightful; the noise when River decides to replace her fingers with her tongue, even more so.

 

“Fascinating,” Joan whispers.

 

River brings her head up again so she can look Joan in the eyes and wink at her. Joan’s smile is as wide as ever as she takes the opportunity to pull the zip all the way down River’s dress, leaving it hanging open as she reaches around to unclasp River’s bra. Her smile widens still farther as she pulls it away and cups River’s breasts, running her thumbs around and over her nipples. River hums in appreciation and Joan backs up, climbing down from River’s lap to kneel between her legs so she can reach her breasts with her mouth.

 

This is River’s first time test driving her new body but Joan seems to know exactly what she’s doing, exactly where to suck and where to lick and how hard to bite and soon River is panting with arousal and Joan is smiling into her skin, her silent laughter a rumbling reverberation reaching right through River’s chest and into her hearts.

 

One of Joan’s hands wanders down from River’s torso to rest on her thigh, her magical thumb stroking slowly over the top and then down between her legs.

 

River tries to say something, though she’s not quite sure what, but all that comes out is a moan.

 

One of Joan’s fingers sneaks under River’s underwear to rub ever so gently against River’s clit.

 

River gasps, and Joan chuckles and elbows her until she understands that she wants her to move so she can pull her underwear down her legs. When River obeys Joan almost absent-mindedly pockets the small piece of fabric as she settles more comfortably between River’s legs, bringing her fingers back to where River wants them.

 

Her touch is deft and self-assured, as though she’s done this a thousand times before – and maybe she has, for all River knows; _that_ would be a nice spoiler – and River ignores the urge to close her eyes in favour of watching Joan smile another smug little smile and shoot River an indecipherable glance as she pushes first one finger and then two inside her to stroke her most sensitive places, so slowly that River is tempted to beg for her to go faster.

 

Maybe that’s what she wants.

 

“Please,” River whispers; a first for her, Mels was to proud to beg. “Please, more.”

 

River doesn’t find it to be the loss of control or power she always feared; on the contrary, Joan does what she wants and picks up the pace, bringing her free hand up behind River’s head to pull her down for another kiss. When they part Joan winds one of River’s curls around her finger, watching with satisfaction as she lets go and it springs back into place.

 

She pulls her other fingers away and River opens her mouth to protest, but Joan sinks back to her knees and her hands on River’ buttocks pull her forward in her seat, and suddenly she feels hot breath between her legs, Joan’s nose nudging at her clit. When her tongue touches her River gasps again, loudly, and she knows it isn’t going to take long at all for the tension building inside her to reach its peak.

 

Joan moans as she moves her tongue deep inside River, thrusting quickly and withdrawing slowly, agonisingly. She laps gently at River’s juices as River keens impatiently, and she laughs at River’s groan when she finally delves back in, repeating the motion until River is on the very brink of climaxing; then she brings her clever fingers back up to pinch River’s clit and she’s pushed over the edge, hard, and she almost struggles for breath as the waves of her orgasm crash over her.

 

Joan sits back and strokes gently with her fingers as River rides the aftershocks, beaming up at her.

 

River stares back, blinking slowly.

 

“…You are amazing,” she manages eventually.

 

Joan shrugs, eyes twinkling. “I told you I knew you.”

 

River laughs, swallows, and grins, climbing shakily down from the chair to join Joan on the floor.

 

“Your turn,” she declares.

 

* * *

 

When River wakes up her stomach is growling and Joan is still asleep, so she sneaks out to find some breakfast, pausing only for a short moment to trail her eyes across the sleeping woman. A warm feeling wraps her hearts and lingers there until she returns half an hour later, triumphant, to find Joan sitting up in bed and looking a lot more sombre than she did the night before.

 

“Something the matter?” River asks as nonchalantly as possible, depositing a fat loaf of bread on the nightstand.

 

And just like that, the grin is back on Joan’s face as though it had never left. “Nah. It’s nothing.”

 

River doesn’t believe that, but she also doesn’t know what to do about it. “I got breakfast,” she says instead, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It was just like a fairy tale – I drove past a big house and smelled fresh bread, nosed around a bit and found it sitting at the back by an open window. Must be fate.” She sets two disposable cups down next to it. “Nicked the coffee the normal way though.”

 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Joan says, eyeing the coffee.

 

River shrugs. “You can ask.”

 

“Why do you keep stealing things?”

 

“What do you mean?” River frowns at her. “How else am I supposed to eat?”

 

“River,” Joan says.

 

This is the first time she’s heard her so serious. It’s… not altogether pleasant.

 

“River,” she says again. “What happened to the money?”

 

\---

 

_“Where have you been?” River demands._

_She hasn’t got out of bed, though, the Doctor notes. She can’t have been too upset with him._

_“I was on a secret mission,” he explains, holding up the package._

_River narrows her eyes. “What’s that?”_

_“It’s the secret, obviously.” He sits down next to her, and she shifts almost absent-mindedly to brush her thigh against his hip. The Doctor suppresses a smile and puts the package down, the paper rustling as he nestles it in the pool of bedclothes in front of her. “Go on, then.”_

_“I could get used to this gift-giving thing, you know,” River remarks. She pushes herself into a sitting position, somehow managing to run her entire leg across his lower back in the process, and takes the present in her hands. She unwraps it quickly but carefully and holds the mass of fabric inside up in the air, letting gravity unfurl it towards the floor._

_“Oh…” she says, starting at the parachute dress._

_“It’s not an exact replica…” the Doctor says._

_“Yeah, it’s red, for starters…”_

_“It’s got better pockets…”_

_“…I love it.”_


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you thought… you thought they’d just dumped you here on a strange planet to fend for yourself?”

_“Have you given any thought to what you might do with yourself… after?”_

_“No.” River looks flabbergasted that he’s even suggested it. “Have you?”_

_The Doctor shrugs. “Not really. There could be moping involved. I might become a hermit, I suppose.”_

_“Doctor.”  She looks at him sternly. “You can do whatever the hell you want. But you can’t do it alone.”_

_“No one else’s company will ever be the same as yours,” he says dismissively._

_“Good!” she declares. “That would be boring. But you_ know _you need someone.”_

_He huffs. “Fine.”_

_She’s probably right. She usually is._

 

\--

 

River knits her brows and shifts her position on the bed. “What money?” she says.

 

“The credit chit that the Doctor left for you at the hospital,” the Doctor explains. She’s still getting used to referring to herself in the third person. And to referring to herself as _she_ , for that matter, though that is… somewhat easier, after last night.

 

River is shaking her head. “No one left me any credit chit. Only an empty blue book.”

 

Just for a moment, the Doctor’s hearts ache at the thought of that empty book, and the contrast with how full it was the last time she saw it.

 

Then she pulls herself back to the present. This time with young River is a gift – she mustn’t waste it pining after her older self.

 

Besides, there are plenty of things in the here and now to make her hearts ache.

 

“So you thought… you thought they’d just dumped you here on a strange planet to fend for yourself?”

 

River shrugs, and she knows she’s hit a nerve. She considers telling River that no, of course they never would… but why should she believe this strange woman who fell from the sky?

 

The Doctor decides on a more practical solution. “Well,” she says. “We’d better go and find it, don’t you think?”

 

River looks up sharply.

 

Ha. That’s got her attention.

 

\- -

 

They start, reasonably enough, at the hospital.

 

First, very sensibly and boringly, they go to reception and ask if perhaps some kind soul might have handed in the lost credit chit.

 

The look that River gives her when the answer is negative is one of her very best I-told-you-sos. It makes the Doctor quite nostalgic, and she loses focus for a moment as River grabs her hand and pulls her around a series of corners.

 

“Where are we going?” the Doctor asks belatedly.

 

“Admin office,” River says briskly. “We can hack into their computer system.”

 

“And look at all their financial transactions,” the Doctor concludes. “Brilliant!”

 

River says nothing, but the Doctor knows how much she likes to be called brilliant and she would recognise that smug little smile that spreads over her face anywhere. She seems to know where she’s going, dragging the Doctor up a back staircase and through a door marked _Personnel Only_ which opens onto a narrow corridor. The first door is labelled _Finance_ and River barges through and unceremoniously clubs the surprised clerk inside over the head with her gun.

 

The Doctor winces.

 

“Now,” says River, rounding on the computer terminal. “What are we looking for?”

 

“How did you know?” the Doctor asks, joining her in front of the screen. “Where to go, I mean?”

 

She flashes her a grin. “I was getting bored of the food so I came down to Admin and hacked into my file to add some religious dietary restrictions. Then while I was in the vicinity I thought I would take a look at this terminal too, just to check if I was going to be hit with an extortionate medical bill on my way out.”

 

“And?” the Doctor asks. If one part of River’s financial support has gone so wrong already…

 

But she just shrugs. “Paid in advance, in full.”

 

“And you didn’t wonder that he didn’t give you anything else?”

 

She’s gone tense now, but she deigns to answer, “I thought maybe he’d turn up. Maybe it was a test.”

 

There are a thousand things the Doctor wants to say to that, not least of which is _you’ve been tried and tested enough, goddammit…_ but eventually she settles on, “…No.”

 

River is silent for just a moment before she turns back to the monitor. “So,” she says again. “What am I looking for?”

 

The Doctor makes herself concentrate. “Let me input the credit chit’s ID code…”

 

Suddenly River is watching her like a hawk. “You know that just off the top of your head?”

 

“I’ve got a good memory,” the Doctor says as nonchalantly as possible. _Especially for things that happened a millennium ago…_

 

Three entries pop up on the screen.

 

“Ah,” the Doctor says. “Here we go.”

 

There are two purchases from the hospital’s canteen… and a payment for a cremation.

 

“…Ah,” she says again.

 

River looks over her shoulder. “So someone used my money to pay for their dead relative’s funeral,” she says admiringly. “Hats off to them.”

 

“But that’s only a fraction of the money,” the Doctor points out. “Who knows what’s happened to the rest?”

 

“Why?” asks River. “How much was on there?”

 

“As far as I can recall,” the Doctor says, “half a million galactic credits.”

 

“Half a…” River gapes. “You’re right, where’s the rest of it?”

 

The Doctor looks again at the canteen purchases. “Whoever it is bought two Lunan dishes on two different days, even though the local food in the canteen is far better quality.” She should know – she tried almost everything on the menu, while she and Amy and Rory waited for River to wake up. “Suggests that it’s an offworlder, probably only here for medical treatment for whoever it was who got cremated.”

 

“Can you tell who the unlucky dead person was?” River fiddles with her vortex manipulator as she asks.

 

The Doctor digs deeper for more information, but comes up blank. “No record here. Probably on a separate system.”

 

“Right.” River raises her gun and straightens. “…Oh.”

 

“What?” The Doctor follows her gaze. “…Oh.”

 

The clobbered clerk is gone.

 

As if on cue, an alarm blares and the door swings shut and seals itself.

 

“Time to go?” says River.

 

Without waiting for an answer, she grabs the Doctor’s hand and activates the vortex manipulator.

 

\---

 

They’re at the spaceport, and River is smug.

 

A very familiar situation, all things considered.

 

“Right,” she says, letting go of the Doctor and cracking her knuckles. “Another computer terminal to hack into.”

 

The Doctor has to fight the urge to just follow her like a besotted puppy.

 

The urge wins.

 

“An offworlder probably couldn’t wait to get off this planet after their loved one kicked the bucket,” River continues, taking off in what seems to be a totally random direction. “And they probably bought something while they were here, with half a million credits at their disposal.”

 

The Doctor nods. “Another computer terminal to hack into,” she agrees.

 

River grins.

 

\---

 

They find out, after knocking out two more guards and short-circuiting a few security cameras, that the credit chit was used two weeks ago to buy a pair of self-heating boots. Given that the winterwear shop is directly opposite the gate from which a ship to the ice planet of Glavarius had departed just an hour later, the connection seems obvious.

 

River is already reaching for her vortex manipulator again when the Doctor grabs her wrist.

 

“Ice planet, dear,” she reminds her. “We might want to invest in some self-heating boots ourselves.”

 

“Invest what? Or have you forgotten that this person has all our money?”

 

“…Good point.” The fingers of the Doctor’s free hand tighten around the sonic screwdriver in her pocket, and once again she wishes she could use it, but she’s honestly surprised that River isn’t more suspicious of her already. She doesn’t want to risk this reprise – overture – whatever-it-is to their relationship just for convenience’s sake. The Doctor sighs. “I suppose we’ll have to steal them.”

 

River brightens right up.

 

The Doctor shouldn’t like that. She kind of does, though.

 

“Excellent,” River says, re-keying the coordinates and grabbing the Doctor’s wrist. “Let’s go!”

 

A moment of nausea later – the Doctor hates vortex manipulators, she really does – her eyes adjust to the darkness.

 

They’re in a shop, with the only light coming from a blinking intruder alarm which River is already taking apart. Surrounding them are racks of thick coats and trousers, with shelves full of boots lining the wall at the far end.

 

The Doctor realises she’s standing next to a display of brightly coloured woolly socks.

 

“Ooh,” she says, reaching out for a pair with neon green and purple stripes – which is when River succeeds in deactivating the alarm and everything goes pitch black.

 

“Why is it,” says River’s voice, “that I can’t see whatever ghastly thing you’re fawning over, but I still know it’s ghastly?”

 

“You never like anything I wear,” the Doctor grumbles. “Hats, suits, jock straps…”

 

“Jock straps?” River’s voice echoes, sharp with interest.

 

“Err…” The Doctor grips the screwdriver in her pocket again. If she shields it with her body maybe River won’t notice… “Forget I said that.” She aims the screwdriver at the ceiling and…

 

“I don’t think I can ever forget that for the rest of my life,” says River’s voice, amused and seductive and much closer than before…

 

The lights flicker on, and the Doctor hurriedly pockets her screwdriver.

 

“Ooh!” says River.

 

The Doctor turns to see her stroking the fabric of a dark red coat with fluffy bits on the hood and sleeves.

 

“That’s nice,” she agrees, stepping towards her.

 

“Nice?” River sounds offended. “It’s _gorgeous_.” Eagerly, she pulls it off the hanger and tries it on, turning to admire herself in the mirror.

 

The Doctor swallows. “Gorgeous,” she agrees.

 

She’s the most beautiful thing the Doctor has ever seen.

 

Again. Still. Always.

 

“I’m having this,” River declares.

 

The Doctor decides to take the socks while River’s distracted. When she finally gets the TARDIS back she’s going to have to come back and pay for it all anyway.

 

River leaves the coat on while she tries on boots and trousers. The Doctor meanwhile goes for the most practical looking items, mentally compares their size with her own new stature, and turns her back on River to pull the trousers and boots on over her new socks. Having been in clothes shops with River before, she then finds somewhere to sit and lays her chosen coat across her lap, clutching a pair of thermal mittens in one hand.

 

She never thought she would miss this, but here she finds herself missing it right now as it’s happening. This scene, this scene that she’s seen played out so many times before – River trying this, River admiring that, River laughing out loud at what seems to the Doctor to be a perfectly normal item of clothing – it’s one of the few things about River Song that really never changes. The version of it the Doctor remembers from their last week on Darillium, when River had insisted she had to find a new outfit to watch the sunrise in, was exactly the same as what’s happening now in front of her eyes. River will grow so much, between now and then, that witnessing her essential River-ness here and now is enough to make the Doctor’s hearts ache with both gratitude that she gets to be here with her again and sadness that this has to be it; she can’t see any way for this not to be it, her very last adventure with her wife.

 

She steadfastly does not remind herself that she was equally convinced of the same thing on Darillium.

 

“What do you think?” River says eventually, sashaying back to the Doctor’s end of the shop dressed in what she just _knows_ are the most expensive items of clothing on sale.

 

The Doctor grins. “Perfect.”

 

* * *

 

The ice planet of Glavarius is _cold_.

 

“There’s a hint in the name,” the Doctor tells River. “No one ever just calls it Glavarius. They always mention the ice planet part.”

 

River grits her teeth, pulling her hood down further in a futile attempt to keep the snow out. “Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it.”

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure I’m the grumpy old man in this relationship.”

 

River stares, and bursts out laughing. “If you insist, darling.”

 

The Doctor really isn’t sure how to feel about that.

 

They’re trekking across the Gargantuan Plain, so-called because of its gargantitude and plainness, no doubt. They haven’t found any evidence of the credit chit being used to get off the planet, so they have to assume their quarry is still here; a helpful man at the tourist information office mentioned an off-worlder arriving recently who had set off across the Plain to the remote village of Lisk, so, this being their best bet, they’re following in his or her footsteps.

 

Unfortunately the only way to get there is on foot.

 

The tourist officer said something about the extreme cold and the composition of the ice interfering with technology, but the Doctor thinks it’s just so that Lisk can keep its ‘remote village’ prefix. They seem awfully keen on prefixes, here.

 

Then again, the vortex manipulators do seem to be out of action at the moment,

 

So she and River will be trudging through the snow for the next two days, trying not to die.

 

It’s just like old times.

 

The sky overhead is a deep, endless blue, sandwiching the two tiny people between it and the bright white and equally endless expanse of ice and snow beneath their feet. They’re already out of sight of any other living soul – though of course plenty of people have stopped living on this very route. The Doctor hopes she and River won’t be adding to their number; her new body is still so _new_ , and as for River…

 

Well. River is pretty new still, too. Far too new to freeze to death and miss… _everything_.

 

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” River says, shielding her eyes with a mitten-clad hand and squinting at the slope ahead.

 

“Money,” the Doctor says. “So you can retire from your life of crime.”

 

“Hold on, we never agreed that!”

 

“Ah well.” The Doctor shrugs. “It was worth a try. But I know crime is your very favourite hobby, so I suppose it was a bit much to hope for.”

 

“Only a bit? You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” River says smugly.

 

“Anyone need a lift?” a voice shouts from behind them.

 

They turn, and the Doctor stares.

 

Catching up to them is a sled drawn by half a dozen huskies, on which stands, coat flapping behind him to illustrate the huge show-off that he always was, her Tenth self.

 

River is gaping too. And when he gets closer, the other Doctor gapes back.

 

“River?”

 

“Doctor!”

 

They stare at each other for so long that the Doctor starts to feel like a third wheel in her own life.

 

“Yes,” she says eventually. “We could use a lift, actually. We’ll hop on, shall we?”

 

“Er, yes,” says the younger Doctor. “Yes, all aboard!”

 

River seems to come out of her trance then, and is first to climb up behind him, though she doesn’t stop staring. The Doctor takes up the rear, squeezing in behind her, and tries not to think of the last time she recalls River sandwiched between two Doctors, under very different circumstances.

 

Very _very_ different circumstances.

 

“Remote village of Lisk?” Young Doctor asks.

 

“Yes please,” says River, looping her arms around his waist.

 

The Doctor does the same to River, though she’s sure it’s not strictly necessary.

 

“Allons-y!” the other Doctor declares, and the dogs break into a run again.

 

River shrieks with delight, and both Doctors grin. Oh dear – she’s not going to have to compete with her younger self for River’s attentions, is she? At least it’s this version, and not either of the ones after… this is the one who, in retrospect, was rather thick when it came to River Song.

 

Come to think of it, the Doctor muses, this could be fun…

 

* * *

 

The fun does not occur. Instead, a giant ice monster occurs.

 

The Doctor can’t believe she didn’t remember this.

 

Actually, strike that, she can definitely believe it. The way her younger self and River keep staring at each other it’s a wonder either of them notice the monster at all, even when the Doctor shouts, “ _Monsteeeerrrrrr!_ ” and points.

 

They’re sledding through a valley between imposing, icy peaks, and what looks like a giant, fat, fluffy white worm with too many teeth just bursts out of a mountainside above them and barrels down towards them, kicking up clouds of snow and ice on its way.

 

The dogs notice, of course, and panic; one of them tries to go the other way from the others and unbalances the sledge, and the three people on it just tumble right off. The dogs sort themselves out and disappear quickly into the distance; the Time Lords and River have a harder time of it.

 

The Doctor can’t help but notice how River has conveniently fallen _right on top of_ the other Doctor. That part she remembers; including the rather embarrassing reaction she – he – whatever – had. She can’t watch, and looks away; just as well really, because the fluffy worm thing is much closer now. It’ll be on top of them any moment now, and then most likely eating them for lunch.

 

She casts around for ideas and spots a cave in the ice-covered cliff beside them. “This way!” she yells, turning to grab both youngsters by their arms and push them in the right direction.

 

River runs so the Doctor follows, not bothering to check whether her younger self is keeping up; a mistake, as it turns out. River is in the lead until she looks back and rolls her eyes in a familiar way which the Doctor hasn’t seen her use since she’s been in this body; nostalgia immobilises her for a full second before she turns and sees that, of course, the reason for the eye-roll is her younger self’s idiocy.

 

The vain Time Lord isn’t wearing proper boots, so he’s gone and fallen flat on his face in the snow. River’s hurrying towards him but so is the monster, opening its huge maw in anticipation.

 

The Doctor has a rather disconcerting view of her younger self’s face as he stares up at the creature’s teeth, no doubt wondering if regeneration is possible after being chewed up and digested.

 

River, as usual, comes to his rescue.

 

The monster snaps its jaws shut on thin air as she hurtles into the side of its head and knocks it off-course. She pulls a knife out of nowhere and stabs it right in one huge eye; the nasty squelching noise is drowned out by the thing’s _squeal_ as she aims a kick to the bottom of its jaw for good measure; then she grabs two handfuls of its thick fur and is about to climb on top of it when it shakes her off and hurries back a safe distance away, where it curls up in a snowdrift, keening.

 

River dusts herself off and gives the younger Doctor a hand up.

 

“Thanks,” he says, staring at her.

 

“Well,” River replies, “You’re too pretty to die.”

 

They grin at each other like idiots.

 

The Doctor sighs and rolls her eyes, but the idiots don’t react.

 

“Oh, whatever…”

 

She walks around them to gaze at the stunned monster, which is slowly pulling itself upright again.

 

“Off you pop,” the Doctor says to it. “You saw what she did to you. Time to give up.”

 

Predictably, the monster doesn’t listen.

 

The Doctor watches it rear up and bare its teeth again, and she glances back at the idiots. They’re still not paying her any attention, so she pulls her screwdriver from her pocket and points it at the ice underneath the monster’s writhing body.

 

A crack creaks open underneath it, and slowly widens until it’s big enough to swallow the creature whole. It bellows as it falls, and the Doctor quickly pockets the screwdriver again and turns her back on it.

 

River and the other Doctor are finally looking around.

 

“Where did it go?” River asks.

 

The Doctor shrugs. “It fell down a hole.”

 

Her young self frowns. “What was that noise? It sounded like my—“

 

“Must’ve been the creature,” the Doctor says quickly. “What happened to your dogs?”

 

The other Doctor stares into the distance, as if realising for the first time that the dogs have scarpered. “I’ll get them,” he declares shortly, and jogs off – almost falling again – to look for them.

 

“Are you okay?” the Doctor asks River, whose gaze still hasn’t left the younger Doctor. It’s a pointless question really; her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed, and she’s clearly not injured. She’s probably having the time of her life.

 

“Fine,” she says absentmindedly. A pause, and then: “Interesting, isn’t he?”

 

“Fascinating,” the Doctor agrees, watching him catch sight of the sled and slip on the ice again from the excitement.

 

“Do you know him?”

 

“A little,” the Doctor replies, hoping this is the vaguest answer she can get away with.

 

“What do you think of him?”

 

The Doctor opens her mouth, and then closes it again without saying anything. She can’t be completely honest, here. She has to encourage River’s relationship with younger her, embarrassing as he might be. Otherwise there might not be a relationship with older her, might not be a _marriage_ , and that would be unbearable.

 

 _Not one line,_ she remembers.

 

“He is… interesting.” She pauses. “Very handsome, of course.”

 

“We’re in agreement there,” River murmurs, tilting her head as the distant younger Doctor manages to hurl himself back onto the sled. If the Doctor remembers correctly, it will take him a few more minutes to get the dogs under control.

 

“What do _you_ think of him?” she asks River.

 

“I really don’t know.” She’s still peering into the distance, though. “I was supposed to kill him, you know.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I still don’t know if I made the right choice. It was all very spur of the moment.”

 

The Doctor puts an arm around River’s shoulder. “You did.” She hopes that isn’t a lie.

 

River sneaks a hand around the Doctor’s waist, and the Doctor lets her eyes fall shut for a moment. Right choice or not, it gave her this.

 

* * *

 

The Doctor has to split them up in the end. There are just too many moon eyes going on.

 

So after hours and hours of standing on the back of the sled in the freezing cold, arms around River’s waist for so long she’s sure they’re frozen that way (not that she would mind, exactly), they pull to a stop in the remote village of Lisk and disentangle themselves, and she steps back and considers her options.

 

While she’s doing so, she can’t help but notice that it takes River a lot longer to let go of the younger Doctor’s waist than it’s just taken her to let go of River’s.

 

That’s enough, she decides. She’s had enough. They’ve spent some time together, that’s all well and good – and, she reluctantly concedes, necessary – but absence will, she knows, make the heart grow fonder, so she will engineer some absence just as quickly as she can.

 

Looking around, she isn’t terribly inspired by the quaint little village, but needs must.

 

It’s ridiculously easy to use her sonic screwdriver again; her younger self is oblivious to anything but River. She wonders how many things she’s missed over the years because she’s been too busy giving all her attention to River Song.

 

Not enough, probably. Not nearly enough.

 

There are fires burning in fireplaces all over the village, smoke threading up out of a hundred chimneys… it’s not too hard to give it a little nudge in a more conspicuous direction.

 

River notices first, and points it out to the younger Doctor.

 

He gapes at the word _Doctor_ woven in greys and whites in the sky above him, but sets off fairly quickly to investigate. River is about to follow but the Doctor takes her gently by the arm and steers her towards the nearest shop front, where a sign proclaims that they can purchase _Traditional_ _Meditation: work on your anxiety, stress, loss. Personalised retreats. Enquire within._

 

“Just lost someone you care about and trekked halfway across the galaxy with a stolen credit chit?” the Doctor murmurs. “This could be just what you’re looking for.”

 

River looks back, but the younger Doctor has already disappeared down the road. She only hesitates for a moment before she shrugs and pushes open the door.

 

A tinny door chime announces their arrival to the owner of the empty shop – which seems to sell not just meditation but everything else as well. The Doctor spots a crate of pears and takes a step back. She still hates them, she realises, not without some relief. Horrific fruit.

 

A round-faced, smiling woman looks up from the counter. “Good afternoon, travellers! What can we do for you?”

 

River steps forward, perilously close to the pears. “We’re looking for another traveller, actually. Someone who came here recently, probably alone? Maybe they were a bit down?”

 

“Oh, you mean Carol?” the shopkeeper asks easily.

 

River’s eyebrows shoot up, and the Doctor steps in quickly. “Yes, Carol, exactly. Do you know where we can find her, by any chance?”

 

“She went home, dearies. Just started out yesterday. Couldn’t handle the cold in the end, poor love.”

 

“Home?” River enquires politely.

 

“I’m afraid so. Luna, was it?”

 

River catches the Doctor’s eye. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, exactly.”

 

“Thank you so much for your time,” the Doctor says graciously, grabbing River by the hand and tugging her back out of the shop.

 

“So,” River says once they’re back out in the cold. “Off to Luna? I’ve always wanted to see what they do to the moon in the future.”

 

“Off to Luna,” says the Doctor, grinning.

 

The grin lasts until she realises they’re going to have to retrace their steps across a two day journey’s worth of snow.

 

* * *

 

By the time they get back to the planet’s capital city neither of them are eager to go straight on to Luna. They are eager to eat, sleep and thaw, preferably all at once.

 

The Doctor uses her psychic paper to talk her way into the honeymoon suite of the swankiest hotel in the city. River is delighted.

 

It’s a kind of a shame that they have no energy whatsoever to do any of the activities one might normally associate with a honeymoon suite.

 

They order room service and dig into a hot meal instead, and the Doctor passes out the moment she stops feeling like she’s going to starve.

 

She’s been sleeping an awful lot since she regenerated. She really hopes that will wear off soon. Sleeping is such a waste of time.

 

Still, she wakes up the next morning before River does.

 

River Song sleeping peacefully is one of the most beautiful sights in all of time and space.

 

She’s curled up in the duvet every which way, limbs poking out from underneath in all directions. Her hair covers most of the pillow she’s buried her face in, and the Doctor hesitates momentarily before reaching out to touch it.

 

She has to remember that to River, they’ve only known each other for a few days. And it kills her that she can’t tell her who she really is – but then, this early in her timeline, River might not react as positively as an older version might anyway. This is a River who still isn’t sure that she hasn’t fallen for some big ruse, that the Doctor really isn’t everything her training and conditioning has taught her.

 

The Doctor is feeling more and more uncomfortable with the deception, though. Now that she has a moment to contemplate it, she realises she’s already let it go far further than she ever should have done. This River is like a lost puppy who’s latched onto the first stranger to show her some kindness, and the Doctor was so happy to see her again that she’d just… gone along with it.

 

Damn. She wishes she could talk to River about this. She also wishes that she could blame the regeneration, but that’s such a bald-faced lie that she can’t even tell it to herself.

 

River’s leg suddenly lifts up and hooks itself around the Doctor’s thighs, and she realises that, for better or worse, she really can’t leave now. River has enough abandonment issues – the Doctor has to at least see this through until they find the credit chit, and then push things towards a more natural parting.

 

Pain grips her hearts just thinking about having to endure another parting from River Song.

 

She pulls her closer instead, and tells her to sleep just as long as she wants.

 

* * *

 

Luna is very much as it was last time the Doctor was there.

 

And of course – of _course_ – they find themselves at the university.

 

River looks around the huge hallways in awe as the Doctor leads the way to the office of Professor Carol Muller, who has been away on compassionate leave for the last two months but who, according to spaceport records from next week, will arrive back on the moon early this evening.

 

Professor Muller is – what a surprise – a professor of archaeology.

 

And her office is very reminiscent of that of a certain other archaeologist the Doctor was extremely well acquainted with in a past life.

 

Knick-knacks from various dead cultures take pride of place in a tall cabinet against one wall, where they’ve obviously run out of space and hence spilled into nooks and crannies around the rest of the room, on the mantelpiece and between books on the bookshelves. The desk is full but tidy, with neat stacks of paper taking up most of the space, interspersed with books and various electronic readers.

 

There’s an antique rug on the floor, carefully placed out of the path of anyone walking from the door to the desk.

 

“Ugh,” says the Doctor, poking an old pot from the Fifth Moon of Poosh. “Archaeology.”

 

“What’s wrong with archaeology?” River asks, admiring a two-headed Aplan statuette on a shelf behind her.

 

“I point and laugh at archaeologists,” the Doctor informs her, sitting at the desk and putting her feet up.

 

“I think it’s interesting,” River says.

 

“Like the Doctor is interesting?”

 

A slow grin spreads over her face and she nods. “Yes. Exactly.” She turns to face her. “So what’s the plan?

 

“The plan,” says the Doctor, “now that we’ve reconnoitred a bit, is to come back tomorrow when the professor returns, ambush her, and retrieve your credit chit.”

 

The grin turns flirtatious in an instant. “So… what are we doing until tomorrow?”

 

The Doctor tries not to let her thoughts wander too far down that road. She folds her hands in her lap and says, as neutrally as possible, “Dinner?”

 

River shrugs, game enough. “It’s a start.”

 

* * *

 

It’s also River’s favourite restaurant on Luna, but she doesn’t know that yet.

 

River frowns as they approach the unassuming grey façade of the building where they will spend so much time together in her future, turning to look at all the more impressive-looking shopfronts in the same street. “Really?” she asks. “It’s not very…  eye-catching.”

 

“Don’t judge a restaurant by its cover,” the Doctor reprimands her with a grin. “It’s what’s inside that counts.”

 

“What’s insi—“ The smell of food wafts over them as the Doctor opens the door. “Oh…”

 

The décor inside matches the smell – touches of Earth and Venus, subtly combined to make something new and better than either of its parents. The low lighting is romantic and relaxed, and the perfect acoustics make the chatter at the tables sound lively but not overbearing. The kitchen takes up the entire floor below them, wholly visible through the transparent tiles under their feet. River is already watching in fascination as a kitchen worker pipes an intricate pattern of Venusian foam-cheese onto a large plate of spiced rösti.

 

“Heaven,” the Doctor says smugly.

 

“Doctor Song!” a waiter trills from close by, hurrying towards them. “Your usual table?”

 

Oops. Clearly, she hasn’t thought this through.

 

River’s eyebrows shoot up but, being River, she doesn’t show any other sign of surprise. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she beams.

 

The waiter – Derrick, the Doctor thinks his name is, and is glad she at least is unrecognisable in her new face – leads them to a table by the window which also happens to be right above a bank of stovetops which regularly spit fire out onto the food and, less intentionally, the chefs. River likes the drama of it; there are several chefs she particularly likes to watch grappling with the flames, though none of them are there right now. Nevertheless, the look on her face is appreciative.

 

Derrick, with a glance at the Doctor, gives them both menus and then mercifully leaves before he can cause any more awkwardness.

 

River puts the menu down without looking at it; just like she always does, though for perhaps a different reason this time. “Doctor Song?” she says.

 

At least it wasn’t _Professor_. “Spoilers,” the Doctor says, looking intently at her own menu. Menus are always so _difficult_ when you’ve got a brand-new body.

 

“As in _actually_ Doctor, or some kind of alias?” River persists.

 

The Doctor looks up and sees the fragile hope in her eyes, and she can’t hold this back from her. “It’s real,” she says. Then, before River can respond to that, “Try the Venusian vegetable lasagne, it’s your favourite.”

 

River raises an eyebrow; then she pointedly picks up her menu and begins to study it. “What’s your favourite?” she asks after a moment. Her casual tone is betrayed by the sharp look she gives her.

 

“It used to be the roast dwarf pumpkins.” The Doctor frowns. “But now I’m not sure.”

 

River shakes her head. “You’re weird.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

A familiar face catches her eye then; two familiar faces in fact, a couple just stepping inside. One of them is River – older River, she can tell just by her body language – and the other… well, it’s her – him – whatever, it’s her younger self, straightening his bowtie as they wait for a table.

 

“Oh,” the Doctor breathes.

 

River, oblivious to the new arrivals behind her, looks up again from her menu. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” She tears her gaze away, trying to quash the longing for an older version of her wife that’s suddenly stabbing her in the hearts. “So what are you eating?”

 

“I might try the Aquamarine Algae.” At the Doctor’s look, she chuckles. “I’m feeling adventurous.”

 

The Doctor snorts. “Nothing new there, then.”

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

“Never.”

 

Derrick the waiter comes to take their order, and then without missing a beat he continues on to the table where the older River is just sitting down with the younger Doctor. He’s obviously used to this kind of thing when it comes to River.

 

The older River catches her gaze, and stares.

 

The Doctor stares back.

 

And then the other Doctor says something that gets her attention and the moment is gone, and the younger River is laughing at something she’s seen in the kitchen below and the Doctor forces herself to focus on her, this stunning young woman whose path she mustn’t mess up at any cost.

 

She catches the older River’s eye once more later, as they leave, and they each manage a hesitant smile.

 

* * *

 

They stay overnight in a B&B across from River’s future dormitory, and the Doctor wonders what she’s supposed to do to keep River on track for her archaeological future. These are clearly pivotal moments that she’s chaperoning her through – how nice, to know that she has a chaperone, but how terrifying to know that the chaperone is her – and anything, in theory, could still go wrong and knock her astray.

 

Her enthusiasm for the university yesterday, though incomprehensible to the Doctor, must be something to encourage and nurture.

 

So she takes a deep breath and shows River the university shop.

 

River smiles from ear to ear when she sees all the knick-knacks with the Luna University logo on them; she immediately picks up a scarf and wraps it around her neck, turning to the Doctor with a grin. “How do I look?”

 

“Like a model student,” the Doctor replies. It’s a lie – River is far too _River_ to ever look like a model student – but she hopes it’s the lie she needs to hear.

 

“I always wanted to go to university,” River confesses, turning to try out a pen.

 

This is not a conversation they’ve had before. Interesting. “Why didn’t you?” the Doctor asks, though she thinks she can guess the answer.

 

River shrugs. “There wasn’t one near Leadworth. Anywhere else would have been too far. Besides, I had all the education I needed for my job.”

 

“I think you need a new job.”

 

River nods thoughtfully. “So do I.”

 

“Any ideas?”

 

“Not really.” She shrugs. “I could probably do security or something but that’s… not appealing.”

 

“What is appealing, then?”

 

River looks around at the shop and the students, and out of the large window at the main university building across the road. “This,” she says, simply but without much hope.

 

And that’s just no good at all.

 

The Doctor steps closer, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Do you know what you can buy with a lot less than half a million credits?” she asks.

 

River shrugs again.

 

The Doctor squeezes tighter. “An education.”

 

* * *

 

And then of course, stupid Carol stupid Muller doesn’t show up.

 

The Doctor and River lounge around in her office for the better part of a day before River decides she’s too bored to go much longer without shooting anything and the Doctor has to steer her in a less violent direction.

 

Which turns out to be, yet again, the direction of the spaceport.

 

“Why would she just _leave_ again?” the Doctor demands, staring over River’s shoulder at a hacked admin console. Again.

 

River shrugs. “She’s going to Space Vegas. Who wouldn’t?” She doesn’t sound at all perturbed – the Doctor can see the prospect of Space Vegas dancing in her eyes just from her reflection in the console’s screen.

 

“She’ll probably come back eventually,” she feels compelled to point out. “We could just jump forward a bit more until we find her.”

 

The look River gives her tells the Doctor exactly what she thinks of that idea even before she opens her mouth. “And _not go_ to Space Vegas,” she states, unimpressed.

 

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know.”

 

“Oh, you’ve been?” River stands, already typing coordinates into her vortex manipulator. “Excellent. You can show me around.”

 

River loves Space Vegas – another thing the Doctor supposed she’ll have to be responsible for now.

 

“Space Vegas it is,” she concedes. She takes River’s hand. “Off we go, then.”

 

* * *

 

They arrive two days before Carol Muller’s ship is scheduled to dock at the gigantic station.

 

An awful lot, the Doctor is reminded, can happen in two days.

 

The first night is straightforward enough, involving mainly cocktails and gambling and another swanky hotel swindled with the psychic paper because the gambling was not terribly successful after the Doctor stopped River from cheating.

 

They’re sitting at breakfast on the hotel terrace the next morning when Dorium Maldovar walks in, spots River, and shuffles over in a hurry.

 

And just like that, things stop being straightforward.

 

“River Song,” he greets her in an undertone, “just the person I need. Take this, will you? I’ll compensate you later.” He slips a small velvet pouch onto her lap and looks around, clearly expecting pursuit.

 

“What is it?” River asks, demonstrating her youth. Older River would have asked first about the compensation.

 

Dorium looks surprised. “Nothing that will be any danger to _you_. Meet me in the Evergreen Chapel tomorrow evening at eight.”

 

And he scuffles away before either of them can say anything else.

 

“Who the hell was that?” River asks in an undertone.

 

“Dorium Maldovar,” the Doctor answers, sighing. “Trust him to get us into trouble.”

 

“How does he know me?” River demands, cupping the pouch in her hand and looking at it surreptitiously before putting it in her handbag.

 

The Doctor chuckles. “He knows how much you love trouble.”

 

“How do you know him?”

 

“Through you, of course.”

 

River raises her eyebrows. “Of course.” She picks her coffee back up. “What kind of trouble?”

 

“Oh, smuggling, usually. Black market stuff.”

 

“Hmm.” River sounds interested. The Doctor can almost hear their quiet two days in Space Vegas departing at a run, pursued by Trouble.

 

“You could just hand it in to the authorities,” she tries anyway.

 

River, predictably, laughs.

 

* * *

 

The door of their hotel room has hardly swung shut before River is pulling the little pouch out of her handbag and emptying its contents on the bedspread she hurriedly smoothes for the purpose.

 

The half-dozen little things that tumble out look like gemstones, but the Doctor has a sneaking suspicion that they might be—

 

“Silver Death,” River breathes.

 

“The deadliest and least traceable poison in the galaxy,” the Doctor agrees grimly.

 

“ _Six_ crystals!” River gapes. “This must be worth millions.”

 

“Also very illegal throughout most of the galaxy. Including here. And you can’t trust Dorium.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” River says, still transfixed. “Still…”

 

“The police are probably looking for it right now.”

 

“Well, they haven’t found it yet.” She grins, gathering the crystals back into the pouch and stuffing it down her cleavage. “Nor will they. This stuff is damned near undetectable.”

 

“This kind of thing never goes well,” the Doctor warns her.

 

She gives her a look – the kind of look that turns the Doctor’s insides to jelly. “I think that depends very much on how you define _well_.”

 

The Doctor gives up.

 

River grabs her by the hand and pulls her back towards the door. “Now. Let’s go and find some fun.”

 

* * *

 

The Doctor lets herself be dragged into three more casinos and ignores all but River’s most egregious cheating, letting her thoroughly enjoy herself. It’s only when she starts sizing up the security arrangements and commenting on their inadequacy that the Doctor decides they really need something else to do.

 

Not least because she remembers what happened the last time River robbed a casino, but she can’t very well mention that.

 

So she promises something wondrous to entice her wayward not-yet-wife outside, and then has to come up with something.

 

And she remembers the one place in all of Space Vegas that she likes more than River does – older River, at least. She’s suddenly very curious to see what she thinks of it this young. Before… everything.

 

On one side of the station is a water park, and in that water park is a big artificial cavern with a  huge spherical pool inside. The only gravity generator is right in the centre and pulls all of the water into a ball, with the air around it and various small craft floating on the surface.

 

It’s such a silly extravagance and so much _fun_.

 

“And did I mention you can breathe the water?” the Doctor says, letting River precede her through the outer door of the airlock.

 

Said airlock is positioned, solely for psychological reasons, ‘above’ the pool when taking into account the orientation of the rest of the station. Guests are required to jump ‘down’ into the water – or climb down a ladder if they’re boring.

 

“Some kind of modification made possible by the low pressure?” River guesses. Correctly.

 

“Precisely.”

 

They climb down the ladder towards the inner door as the one above them hisses shut. The lower one opens, showing them the rest of the ladder and leaving a small ledge, for diving purposes. Water sloshes around five metres beneath their feet, and the sound of laughter echoes up towards them.

 

River smiles. “Race you to the middle.”

 

And she jumps.

 

…Not like older River, who will only ever jump into the pool in the TARDIS if she can help it because it’s the only water she feels safe in after Lake Silencio.

 

The Doctor jumps too, before she can dwell on that too much.

 

She catches up to River easily, and they share underwater grins before River, clearly taking the Doctor’s arrival as her signal to stop holding back, kicks her legs and puts several metres of distance between them in seconds.

 

The Doctor laughs and plunges after her.

 

The pool is not terribly busy right now, and they don’t pass many other swimmers on their race to the centre. But as they approach the gravity generator River slows, and the Doctor notices a large, blue figure coming into view.

 

“Dorium,” River greets him neutrally, letting herself float to a stop. Her voice is muffled by the water, but not too much.

 

Dorium looks surprised to see them. “River Song. I thought you didn’t like swimming.”

 

River scoffs. “Says who?”

 

Dorium tilts his head. “Says you. Another lie, no doubt. Tut tut.” He looks, for the first time, at the Doctor. “Are you going to introduce me to your new toy?”

 

“Whatever for? Are you looking to steal her? Speaking of which…” River pulls the pouch, now sealed in a water-tight bag, out of her bikini top and swings it back and forth. “Tell me more.” She pushes it back into its hiding place and raises her eyebrows.

 

“What more do you want to know? Surely you’ve looked inside by now.”

 

“What exactly is the compensation you promised me for looking after these for you?”

 

Ha. The Doctor smirks. River has always been a fast learner.

 

“Three hundred thousand credits,” Dorium states, trying to look bored.

 

“A million,” River counters quickly.

 

“Half a million.”

 

“Done.” River’s gaze wanders off to the side, and the Doctor follows it to see two blurry but official-looking silhouettes speeding towards them.

 

Dorium has seen them too. “Best be off,” he says quickly. “Goodbye.”

 

River doesn’t even reply, turning already to swim away in the opposite direction. The Doctor hurries after her, sparing just a second to look back over her shoulder. “One of them’s following us,” she reports.

 

River cackles, and swims faster.

 

The Doctor finds herself laughing.

 

The Doctor and River Song, pursued by the authorities – how many times must this make? And it never gets old.

 

The officer seems to have some kind of propulsion device giving them an unfair advantage, but River being River doesn’t let that stop her. She barrels towards a group of people doing underwater aerobics and drags the Doctor into the middle of them, seamlessly joining in with the exercises. The Doctor has slightly more trouble and the two of them earn some frowns, but it’s enough to confuse the officer and send them speeding on past them.

 

“Ohh,” River says, disappointed. “That was too easy.”

 

The Doctor squints at the receding figure – not receding quite so quickly all of a sudden. “No, it wasn’t,” she decides, grabbing River by the wrist and ducking down around the aerobics group to better hide them from view. She spots a large yacht on the surface not too far away  and heads towards it, wishing she’d brought her screwdriver with her rather than leaving it in the locker… but she’d tried following River’s example and using her cleavage and it hadn’t fit.

 

Thankfully the crowd of people buys them just enough time to reach the ladder of the yacht and pull themselves up out of the water. As soon as they’re standing on the deck River keys coordinates into her vortex manipulator and grabs the Doctor before activating it.

 

They land in a wet heap on the bed of their hotel room.

 

And then, when they’ve stopped laughing, the Doctor has to use her own manipulator to go and fetch her screwdriver and their clothes.

 

And River just laughs some more.

 

* * *

 

Of course, there’s no question of them _not_ going to meet Dorium at the Evergreen Chapel.

 

When they arrive there’s quite a crowd of people there, but they soon file inside the main hall for a ceremony, leaving River and the Doctor standing outside alone.

 

And 8 o’clock passes, and Dorium doesn’t show up.

 

The Doctor is nervous; River, of course, is just impatient.

 

“Rude,” she mutters.

 

“Let’s… not comment, out in public,” the Doctor admonishes quietly.

 

River rolls her eyes. “What shall we talk about, then?” She sits on the intricately carved bench built into the wall, probably meant for photo ops while the happy couple wait for their turn in the chapel.

 

The Doctor is quite glad that she and River never got married in this particular building. She’s got enough feelings to deal with, she realises as she takes a seat next to her one-day-wife. “What would you like to talk about?” she asks pragmatically.

 

River hesitates. “Tell me more about me in the future,” she asks, not quite as self-assured as she’s probably aiming for.

 

The Doctor sighs. “I can’t tell you much. You have to understand that. Spoilers.”

 

“I understand,” River confirms. “I just… I want to know who I’m supposed to be.”

 

“You’re supposed to be _yourself_ , River. And you’re doing a pretty good job of that.”

 

River snorts. “Thanks.”

 

It’s not enough, the Doctor can tell. She tries again. “River Song is… brilliant, and mad, and passionate and caring and so, so clever… all of the things that you already are. You are who you’re supposed to be. Just… keep on being her.”

 

“You make it sound so simple.” River makes it sound anything but simple, but the Doctor scoffs.

 

“It is. I promise. Other things are not, but this… this really, really is.”

 

But nothing, she can tell, is going to really convince her.

 

River sits there looking at her, the corner of her mouth twitching because she wants to smile but doesn’t quite dare to because a smile would be a sign that she believes what she’s told, and this River is nowhere near ready to give in to hope the way her older self might. That not-quite-smile is heartbreaking and beautiful and the Doctor can’t help but raise her hands and run her thumbs over her cheeks and kiss her.

 

Finally, when River knows she can’t see her, the Doctor feels her smile.

 

Unfortunately the moment is ruined by the entrance of three surly-looking goons.

 

“Where’s Dorium?” the largest of them demands, barging in on their private moment.

 

They don’t look like friends of his.

 

“Who?” the Doctor asks innocently.

 

“We know he’s meeting his contact here,” the goon says impatiently. “Where is he?”

 

“I’m afraid we can’t help you,” River says in her silkiest voice. “We’re just here to get married.” She puts her hand over the Doctor’s and gives it a squeeze.

 

The Doctor is suddenly very thankful after all that their kiss was interrupted. She can see in the leader’s eyes that he’s leaning towards believing their story.

 

“Hmm,” he says eventually. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall opposite; his minions follow suit. They make quite a sight, bulky and dangerous against the dainty paintwork and delicate flowers that decorate the chapel.

 

River and the Doctor favour them with love-struck smiles. It isn’t hard.

 

They wait in a silence sliding quickly towards appearing unnatural for two people about to get married. The Doctor decides to remedy that.

 

“Did you remember to order the bouquets, darling?” she enquires of River.

 

River raises her eyebrows in amusement, and plays along. “Of course I did. And did you arrange the music?”

 

“Oh dear.” The Doctor lowers her head. “I forgot.”

 

“Sweetie!” River gasps.

 

The name sends a jolt of happiness through the Doctor’s whole body, and she forgets for a moment that they’re play-acting. “Sorry dear,” she murmurs. “You know my thoughts go haywire whenever you’re around.”

 

“As they should,” River says smugly, and pulls her closer for another smooch.

 

If only River know who she was, she could share her thoughts by touch…

 

As it is, she just has to trust that they’re on the same page.

 

They kiss for a good while, hoping the goons will get bored and stop scrutinising them so closely. But when they finally break for air the Doctor looks up to find them still all staring intently.

 

She clears her throat, not having to feign the awkwardness.

 

“I hope your friend turns up soon,” she says with a friendly smile.

 

The leader nods slowly, not taking his eyes off her. “Yeah.”

 

At that moment the door of the chapel is thrown open and loud music accompanies the preceding couple and the procession of their friends out of the building and into the street. There’s laughter and confetti and then they’re gone, leaving the door to the empty room open behind them.

 

River stands, and pulls the Doctor in behind her. As soon as they’re in, she kicks the door shut and whispers, “What now?”

 

The Doctor considers their options. “How do you feel about getting married?”

 

Surprise shows in River’s eyes for just a moment before she grins and purrs,” Oh, I thought you’d never ask.”

 

They both turn to face the minister, who by now is looking at them expectantly. “Can I help you?” the woman enquires, approaching.

 

“Yes,” River states firmly. “We’d like to get married.”

 

The minister smiles. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

 

* * *

 

The ceremony is not as long as the Doctor would like – apparently there are strict time slots, who knew? – but she and River milk it for all it’s worth, making wordy declarations of love for one another and trying to engage the minister in lengthy conversation. But in the end they are basically kicked out, and they step back through the double doors arm in arm, married. Again.

 

The goons are still there, and the Doctor feels River’s muscles tighten under hers, belying her breezy smile and wave as they sail past.

 

They’re almost out of sight and around the corner when one of them shouts an “Oi!” down the street, and they both tense even as they turn back with gigantic smiles.

 

The lead goon has stepped forward a bit, and looks a little awkward. “Congratulations,” he manages, giving them a thumbs-up.

 

River laughs with delight. “Thank you!” she calls back, waving again, until the Doctor grabs her and steers her gently but firmly around the corner.

 

“Come along, wife,” she murmurs in her ear.

 

“Wife,” River murmurs back, with one last glance over her shoulder. “I like that.” She looks at the Doctor with interest then, curious. “Have you been married before?”

 

Well, that hurts more than it should. “I have,” she confirms, trying not to let any of the emotions associated with that simple statement bleed into her tone. She decides to try a distraction. “Have you?”

 

“Just the once.” River grins. “You’re my second wife.”

 

That… is like a punch to the gut. “Oh…” she manages.

 

River frowns, and the Doctor fears she’s awakened some kind of suspicion before she realises that her wife is looking at something farther away, and the expression is not directed at her.

 

She follows her gaze.

 

Across the road stands a young Doctor in a bowtie, gaping at them and looking like a kicked puppy.

 

“…Oh,” River echoes.

 

The Doctor can’t really read her tone or the look on her face, but she can feel her pulse beating faster under the warm skin of her arm.

 

River and the younger Doctor stare at each other.

 

Then he abruptly turns away, throwing a nod and a quick wave over his shoulder before vanishing in the crowd.

 

“Can you tell me,” River says vaguely, still staring at the place where he had been. “What… who is the Doctor, to me? In the future?”

 

The Doctor swallows. “He’s an important part of your life,” she manages. “I can’t really tell you more than that.”

 

River nods. She’s almost dazed by this sighting of her – unbeknownst to her – future husband.

 

“Come on,” the Doctor says gently, tugging at her arm. “I don’t think we’re safe yet.”

 

“No,” says Dorium’s voice behind them. “You’re not.”

 

They both look around in surprise to see him beckoning furtively from the darkened entrance to a small public park. The Doctor changes the direction of her tugging to follow him, hoping the distraction will do River good.

 

“You could have warned us those heavies were after you,” she admonishes Dorium.

 

“How, exactly?” he demands. “Besides, you dealt with them admirably. Now, have you got my treasure?”

 

River, on point once more, pulls it out of her dress. “I believe you owe me half a million credits?”

 

Dorium produces a credit chit ironically identical to the one they’ve been chasing all over the galaxy. “As agreed.”

 

River inspects it carefully, nods, and hands over the little bag of crystals.

 

Dorium returns the nod. “I look forward to out next opportunity to do business together,” he declares, and walks away.

 

River scrutinises the credit chit thoughtfully.

 

* * *

 

They spend one more night at the hotel, just because they’re exhausted – well, the Doctor is, and blames it privately on her still-recent regeneration – and the next morning they breakfast on the terrace one more time. The Doctor fervently hopes never to see Dorium there again.

 

River is not herself, especially considering she’s just come into possession of half a million credits. She’s nowhere near the right degree of smug. Instead she pushes food around her plate, not making much eye contact with the Doctor.

 

“Half a million credits for your thoughts?” the Doctor says eventually.

 

River looks up and attempts a smile, though a sigh escapes her lips at the same time. “The Doctor,” she confesses. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

 

That makes the Doctor smug, despite herself. “He looked pretty surprised last night.”

 

River nods. “I need to know more about him. More real facts, not just whatever’s been pushed into my brain by the church. But I don’t even know where to start.”

 

The Doctor chuckles, and reaches out to take her hand. “Of course you do.”

 

River looks up sharply.

 

* * *

 

They find Carol Muller an hour later, as they’re checking out of the hotel.

 

River’s flirting with the desk clerk when the middle-aged woman steps up beside her, proffering a familiar credit chit. “Checking in,” she declares to another clerk. “Carol Muller.”

 

River stares.

 

The Doctor has to hide a smile as the professor slowly notices the wide-eyed future professor. “Yes?” Professor Muller says.

 

“Oh…” River says. “I wanted to know about… archaeology.”

 

The other woman raises her eyebrows. “What would you like to know.”

 

“Oh,” River says again. “…Everything.”

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t mention the credit chit,” the Doctor observes when the professor has left at last, after hours of enthusiastic chit-chat with River in the hotel bar. The Doctor herself felt rather… excluded from the conversation.

 

At least she didn’t point and laugh. She gives herself a mental pat on the back for that.

 

River shrugs, turning on her stool to finally give the Doctor some attention again. “She needs it more than I do. Maybe some more gallivanting around the galaxy really will help her get over her dead wife.”

 

The Doctor nods. “I hope so,” she says. What an amazing thing it would be, if that were all it took to cure that kind of heartbreak.

 

“I liked Luna University,” River says, looking at the drink she’s swirling around its glass rather than anywhere near the Doctor’s eyes.

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you think I should apply?”

 

“River,” the Doctor says seriously, knowing that her tone will make her wife meet her gaze, and not continuing until she does. “I think you should do whatever the hell you want.”

 

A laugh of delight escapes River’s lips at that, and she shakes her head, smiling. “Will you come with me?”

 

And the bloom of joy in the Doctor’s chest dies a quick death, and she’s the one who breaks eye contact now. “I don’t think I can.”

 

“Why not?” River demands. “You’re my _wife_.”

 

“I _know_ ,” the Doctor says with all seriousness, and the joy blossoms again, just a little bit, deep in her hearts. “But River… I know too much about you, about your future. There has to come a point where I step aside and let you go and live that future.”

 

“I understand that, I do,” River reassures her, with those big, shining eyes that always kill her a little bit, “but _please_ … not yet?”

 

The Doctor sighs. She never has been able to resist River begging her for anything.

 

“Okay,” she says gently. “Okay.” She takes her hand and squeezes it, holding her tight and wishing she didn’t know that she would ever have to let go.

 

River smiles, and if she wasn’t undone already that would have done it anyway – it always does.

 

“Not yet,” the Doctor agrees.

 

\--

 

_“Come on,” he says. “One last trip.”_

_River laughs. “Doctor, it’s ten minutes to dawn.”_

_“Exactly. Plenty we can do in ten minutes. Let’s take the TARDIS to Space Vegas for a few days. We’ll come back ten seconds from now.” He’s already stepping inside, holding his hand out for her._

_She hesitates, and he’s filled with a painful desperation._

_“Please,” he says quietly. “I know we have to do this, but please… not yet.”_

_Precious seconds tick away, but then River’s hand is in his._

_“Fine,” she says, leaning in to peck him on the cheek._

_The pain in his hearts eases again, just a little._

_“Not yet,” River agrees._


	3. Part III

_“I should give you the key back,” River says, running a hand gently over the side of the TARDIS._

_The Doctor scoffs. “Don’t you dare.” Is she trying to make this worse than it already is?_

_“Why not?” River turns, but only faces him for a split second before she lowers her gaze and steps away, meandering over to inspect the flowers bordering the garden. “I won’t be needing it anymore.”_

_“Says who?”_

_River sighs. “Doctor, once we leave Darillium—“_

_“Once we leave Darillium, who says you won’t need the TARDIS anymore? Apparently you’ve been stealing her away all over time and space without my knowledge, who says you’re going to stop just because you might not see me again?”_

_She freezes. After a moment, her shoulders slump a little. “Fair point.”_

\--

 

River is late.

 

It’s her own fault, she knows – she’d ambushed Joan in the shower, with what in retrospect hadn’t been the best timing, but she’s got a _thing_ for Joan in the shower – and now she’s late for her Introduction to Martian Archaeology class and she just _knows_ she’s going to get one of Doctor McIntyre’s snide remarks and then she’ll have to bite her tongue and not shoot him…

 

River grits her teeth and quickens her step.

 

Her path takes her through the street her favourite restaurant stands on, the one Joan introduced her to, and she can’t help but slow down again as she passes it, closing her eyes to inhale the smell of their trademark stuffed breakfast rolls—

 

And she walks right into someone.

 

Someone whose hands automatically shoot up to steady her shoulders, and whose face she recognises instantly when her eyes fly open and she looks up.

 

“Doctor,” she says, shaken.

 

“River!” He grins. “In a hurry, I see.” He steps aside to reveal the TARDIS parked against the wall, hands falling only a short distance before he hooks both thumbs under his braces. “Need a lift?”

 

River laughs. “I’m hardly going to say no to that.”

 

It’s only once she’s inside, feeling the TARDIS’s joyful welcome, that she thinks about how stupid it might be to just follow the Doctor anywhere.

 

But the last few weeks have already told her more about the real him than the Church ever did. And the things she’s learned… they’re _good._

 

And then of course there’s the matter of Joan’s spoilers… and what River thinks they mean, and the turmoil in her gut that eats her up with hope and fear whenever she thinks about it too much, or whenever she remembers what he told her in Berlin.

 

Sometimes, the Doctor in the tomes she is perusing is not alone.

 

Sometimes, he’s described with a partner, a queen… a _wife_.

 

_Bold and quick with golden curls…_

 

She wonders what he would say if she asked him, but she doesn’t dare. It’s disconcerting to realise that you hardly know someone who has been the centre of your life for as long as you can remember.

 

He’s standing at the console now, still grinning, hands now poised over the controls. “Where to?”

 

River doesn’t even consider asking him to drop her outside the lecture theatre. “Somewhere exciting,” she demands instead. “Somewhere we can run for miles and miles without stopping.”

 

“Ha!” he exclaims, delighted, and throws the TARDIS into motion. “Your wish is my command.” They land with a rumble, and River can tell that the ship is… amused, about something? “Eltraximus Minor,” the Doctor declares. “Third moon of Pretoria. Shall we?”

 

He snaps his fingers and the doors swing open. River shields her eyes against the sudden bright light, and the Doctor takes her gently by the arm and pulls her outside.

 

They’re on top of a hill, with rolling grassy mounds falling away on all sides to meet a forest of tall, spindly trees in the distant valley. A spring bubbles by her feet, the water winding down the slope in a tiny stream until it joins with a second and then a third, becoming a narrow river which snakes away into the woods.

 

The Doctor is beaming. He looks at her expectantly but quickly gives up when he realises she has no idea what it is that he’s expecting. He explains, instead: “This is the site of the Eltraximum marathon. The biggest race in the quadrant. Twenty thousand years from now people from all over the galaxy will come here to compete for the trophy.” He shrugs smugly. “We could be the first people to ever run it.”

 

River laughs, oddly touched. “I did say I wanted to run.”

 

“It’s what we do best.” He takes her hand. “What do you say?”

 

“I’m not really dressed for running,” she points out; then she looks him up and down, taking in the tweed and the bowtie and the braces. “And you definitely aren’t.”

 

“Rubbish!” he says. “You can run in anything. That’s part of the fun. We once ran across half a moon wearing nothing at all.”

 

That makes her laugh again. “Fine,” she concedes, gripping his hand more tightly. “Let’s go.”

 

He whoops like a child and tugs her down the hill, following the path of the stream, his free arm flapping all over the place. River can’t help but whoop as well with the wonderful ridiculousness of it all.

 

 _Ridiculous_ is a word she’s never associated with the Doctor before.

 

Well. Apart from his dress sense.

 

“How long is this race?” she asks, as the stream beside their pounding feet gets wider.

 

“Four kilometres,” he replies jovially.

 

“ _Four kilometres_?” her surprise interrupts her steady pace, and the Doctor is yanked backwards by her grip on his hand. “That’s nothing!”

 

“Ah,” the Doctor says, nodding at the forest in front of them. “I haven’t told you about the obstacles.”

 

River follows his gaze. Now that he mentions it, there is something odd about the trees. They seem to be… moving.

 

“Obstacles,” she says with renewed vigour.

 

“Yes, I thought you’d like the sound of that.”

 

He sounds like he knows her. He sounds like he knows her _well_.

 

River forces herself to breathe normally as she concentrates on keeping up with him – he’s _fast_ , for someone with his physique.

 

And he doesn’t slow as they approach the forest – if anything he’s going faster, winding around the trees on the outskirts as though he’s avoiding getting too close to one for as long as possible… but of course they can’t run through a forest without getting close to any trees.

 

When they do, River understands why he was avoiding them.

 

A tree straight in front of them seems to sense their approach and _falls over_ – they dodge it just in time to avoid being crushed. As soon as it hits the ground and apparently realises that they haven’t been flattened, it bounces back into an upright position and tries again.

 

And by now the next tree, and the next ones too, have spotted them and begin trying to swat them like flies.

 

River and the Doctor weave and dodge and run through the rising and falling trees, almost dying several times per minute, and River laughs out loud.

 

The Doctor laughs too. “I knew you would like this!” he shouts, pulling her up on top of a tree that’s just fallen next to them and using the momentum when it starts to right itself to propel them further into the forest.

 

“How did you know?” she demands, running forward to try the same trick on the next tree.

 

He follows gleefully. “Mortal peril from unexpected sources? A literal run for your life? That’s right up your alley! Whooooo!” he cries, as they’re catapulted through the crowd of killer trees.

 

They land hard on the ground and River struggles to breathe for a moment – but only a moment, because then she looks up and sees the next tree falling straight down towards them, so she forgets about breathing completely as she shoves the Doctor out of the way and then leaps out of its path herself.

 

The tree crashes to the ground between them and she loses sight of him for a moment, taking deep, desperate gulps of air as she waits for it to start to rise again and reveal whether or not she was successful in saving his life. Again.

 

She realises that she has no idea where in his timeline this Doctor is. Does he even know that she tried to kill him only a few months ago?

 

Before she can think about this any more the tree moves and his hand darts out from underneath, pulling her under and through its scratching branches and away through the next stretch of forest.

 

She’d lost sight of the river for a while but now she finds herself running along its shore. Trees splash straight into it as they attack, throwing up huge amounts of spray which has both of them drenched in a matter of minutes.

 

The ground is wet and slightly slippery here, but the trees aren’t so dense and it’s easier to avoid them. This also means that there aren’t so many handy springboards, though – until a _huge_ tree slams down next to them, splintering two smaller ones in the process.

 

They both scramble on at the same time, and run up as high as they can before it moves again, surprisingly quickly, and throws them into the air.

 

They land in the river, a few dozen metres beyond the end of the forest.

 

The Doctor surfaces with a yelp of glee, spitting the water out of his mouth and turning to see the trees receding in the distance as the two of them are swept downstream. “We made it!”

 

“That was fun,” River declares, exhilarated.

 

“Wasn’t it,” he agrees. He turns around again, and nods at a big, flat rock sitting at the side of the river a short distance away. “We can get out there.”

 

In the event it’s only River who gets out there; the Doctor tries and fails to get a hold on the rock and is pulled further downstream by the current. River crawls onto the warm stone and lies down, enjoying the heat on her soaked back and wondering vaguely if she should try to help him.

 

But he’s the Doctor. He should be able to survive a river, shouldn’t he?

 

She leans back and closes her eyes, waiting to see what happens.

 

Sure enough, a few minutes later a shadow falls over her, and she looks up to see the Doctor lowering himself down next to her, setting a picnic basket down between them.

 

He’s also completely dry.

 

River scrambles into a sitting position. “What’s going on?”

 

The Doctor shrugs. “I got a bit battered in that fast bit of water around the bend there. So I went back to the TARDIS and patched myself up.” He pushes the basket towards her. “Thought you might be hungry.”

 

“You patched yourself up and then travelled back in time?”

 

“Well, I didn’t want to worry you.”

 

“But… but that means that you’re _also_ somewhere around here walking back to the TARDIS right now.”

 

“It does. But don’t tell. It’s very dangerous to cross your own timestream. Don’t do it,” he says sternly.

 

“Then why would you…?”

 

“Because I know what I’m doing. Also,” he pushes the basket again with his foot, “I wanted to get champagne. Ghastly stuff, but I know you like it.”

 

River pulls the basket closer and opens the lid. Sure enough, in addition to scones, jam, clotted cream, and… fish fingers?... it contains a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

 

There he goes again. Knowing stuff about her. He’s even got her favourite kind of jam, the homemade stuff from the farm just outside Leadworth.

 

“Doctor,” she asks, pulling the bottle and glasses out of the basket. “How long have you known me?”

 

He smiles. “I was there the day you were born.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean anything. That could be yesterday to you for all I know.”

 

He nods, taking the point, and presses one of the glasses into her hand. “I can’t tell you exactly. Spoilers.” He takes the bottle from her, biting his lip as he works the cork out and laughing gleefully when it pops. “It has been,” he says finally, pouring champagne into her glass, and a tiny drop into his, “a significant part of my life.” He’s still smiling, but something about it is… not as happy as before. She’s not sure what to make of that. “Cheers,” he says, clinking his glass lightly against hers.

 

“Cheers,” she says, and sips – and then nearly chokes with laughter at the grimace he pulls when he tastes his drink. “If it’s so ghastly,” she gasps, eyes watering – especially as it’s about as far from ghastly as champagne can ever get – “Why do you drink it?”

 

He’s still pulling a face that makes him look like he’s swallowed a hornet, but somehow he manages to sound sincere when he replies. “Anything for you, River Song.”

 

The way he says her name reminds her of Joan, and she feels a pang of – she’s not even sure what it is. Guilt? Regret? Which is ridiculous – Joan knows more about her relationship with the Doctor than River does herself, and she’s never warned her off… on the contrary, she’s only really said positive things about him.

 

Besides which, River knows she’s going to leave soon.

 

She was already reluctant to join her on Luna, and lately River has often caught her looking at her with what she can only describe as _nostalgia_. Nostalgia for something she knows she has to let go of.

 

River understands on a rational level; of course if Joan knows her in the future she can’t stick around forever and get in her own way – she seems to take that a lot more seriously than the Doctor does. But on an emotional level, River can’t help but resent it a little bit. People being separated from her through no fault of their own seems to be a feature of her life, and it’s definitely not one she particularly enjoys.

 

All the more reason to see what happens with the Doctor, she tells herself firmly.

 

The Doctor who is spreading jam on the fish fingers.

 

River tries one. It’s surprisingly not terrible.

 

* * *

 

The TARDIS lands in the living room of the little flat River’s half a million credits are helping to pay for. When Joan leaves… whenever that might be… River is planning to move into one of the dormitories. The last thing she wants is to be stuck alone in a place where they used to be together.

 

She banishes this thought from her mind as she steps out into the room and turns back to the Doctor.

 

“Thanks,” she says.

 

“Welcome,” he says smugly. He grips the side of the door and tilts his head, smiling. “Until the next time.”

 

“Is this what you do, then?”

 

“Is what what I do?”

 

“Whisk me off to faraway places, put me in mortal peril and give me champagne?”

 

“ _Spoilers_ , River Song.” But he relents a little, eyes twinkling. “Would you like it to be?”

 

That makes her laugh. “Well, it doesn’t sound terrible.”

 

The sound of the door opening behind her makes her look around. Joan steps into the room; barely missing a beat, she nods at them both and settles on the sofa with a book.

 

The Doctor clears his throat. “See you around, then.”

 

River grins. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

He blushes, bless him – he is really quite adorable – and closes the door. River watches as the TARDIS dematerialises.

 

When it’s gone, Joan finally speaks up. “Weren’t you going to a lecture?”

 

River’s eyes widen. “Oh… damn.”

 

* * *

 

The Doctor proves to be a distraction from her studies who is very difficult to resist.

 

And Joan is no help either.

 

“I never knew it was this bad!” she exclaims, almost gleefully. “It’s very sweet.”

 

River glares, looking up from the textbook sitting in her lap, which she hasn’t read more than two words of in the last half an hour. Joan grins at her from the other end of the sofa. “I am not sweet,” River declares.

 

“You’re adorable.”

 

“I’m annoyed,” she says, trying hard to read the next sentence and actually absorb what it’s trying to tell her.

 

“That’s adorable too.”

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Make me.” She sticks her tongue out.

 

River looks up again. Her wife is sitting cross-legged in her striped pyjamas, reading a comic book, looking very adorable herself.

 

River sighs.

 

“Don’t tempt me,” she says. “I’ve got to hand this essay in tomorrow and I haven’t even finished the background reading.” She shifts position and bites her lip, determined to concentrate this time.

 

Joan giggles.

 

River looks up.

 

Joan shrugs. “River. Why don’t you ask the Doctor to drop you somewhere really boring, so you can study, and come back a few days later? There’s no need to spend all night reading.”

 

“The Doctor’s not here,” River points out after a moment.

 

“He’ll come when you call. He always does.”

 

“How am I supposed to call someone who could be anywhere in time and space?”

 

“You’ll figure it out.” Joan grins, and prods her with her toe.

 

* * *

 

In the middle of the night, after using her vortex manipulator to steal more time for her essay and running its battery down to zero, River suddenly realises how simple it is.

 

She almost falls out of bed in her haste, kicking Joan in the shin and then making a slight detour on her way to the bedroom door to grab a pencil off the desk. She hurries into the living room and jumps onto the sofa, looking over her shoulder for a moment at the spot where the Doctor always parks the TARDIS before scrawling in big, clear writing on the wall.

 

 _2 November 5123_ _,_ _2:23am_

 

She’s barely finished when the clock on the wall flips from 2:22 to 2:23 and the telltale sound of the TARDIS materialising fills the room.

 

River grins.

 

The Doctor steps out with a matching expression. “River Song. You called?”

 

“I did,” River says breathlessly. Her hearts keep skipping a beat when she sees him stepping out of those doors. It’s very annoying but also… very exciting. She’s never felt this way before.

 

Unfortunately her excitement is interrupted by an explosion outside the balcony window, inevitably followed by the sound of screaming.

 

The Doctor rushes for the balcony, and River follows close on his heels. The library across the road is on fire, and several students up studying in the middle of the night are fleeing at top speed; not surprising, given that the fire has obviously been caused by the shooting from the squat robotic-looking creatures advancing from the other end of the street.

 

“Daleks,” says Joan’s voice beside her. River grabs her hand for a quick squeeze.

 

“What are they doing here?” the Doctor mutters.

 

“Exterminating,” River replies. “That’s what they’re saying, anyway.”

 

“But why?” says the Doctor. “They’re not supposed to invade at this point in history.”

 

“Since when do the Daleks do what they’re supposed to?” Joan asks wryly.

 

“Good point. Right.” He claps his hands. “River, get your weapons. You,” he looks at Joan, still not quite sure what to make of her even after River’s many explanations and reassurances. “You stay here. Don’t wander off.”

 

Joan shakes her head. “Not a chance. I’ve had a lot of experience fighting Daleks.”

 

The Doctor stares at her, clearly dubious. “Really?”

 

“Yes really. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

 

And before River has even fetched her weapons Joan is bounding to the front door and down the stairs, leaving the Doctor to follow her and River to take a detour through her weapons cabinet before taking up the rear.

 

She catches up with them both inside the entrance of the building, where they’re jostling over the best position to watch the Daleks from.

 

They’re proceeding down the street slowly but steadily, eyestalks moving from side to side like…

 

“They’re looking for something,” River whispers.

 

“Or someone,” Joan says grimly.

 

“But how could they possibly know I was here?” The Doctor shakes his head. “I only just arrived.”

 

“Doctor.” Joan looks at him like he’s an idiot – River’s never seen her do that before. “You’re always here. For the seven years River spends at this university, you’re here almost constantly.”

 

“Seven years?” River gapes.

 

“Spoilers,” Joan and the Doctor say in unison.

 

There’s an awkward silence, but then the Doctor nods reluctantly. “Fair point.”

 

“You’re just lucky not more of your enemies have figured that out,” Joan continues.

 

“I think the Daleks are more than enough, thank you.”

 

River has to hold back a laugh. Their bickering is kind of… adorable.

 

However, this is not really the time or place.

 

“What’s the plan?” she demands.

 

It gets their attention, at least.

 

“Yes,” says the Doctor. “You’re right. A plan is definitely needed.”

 

Unfortunately nothing more is forthcoming. “How do we kill them?” River prods.

 

“Not easily,” Joan says, shaking her head.

 

“Not impossible, though,” says the Doctor.

 

“So how?” says River. This is like pulling teeth. And the Daleks are getting closer.

 

“Is there a handy spaceship we could drop on them?” Joan suggests.

 

“Not likely,” says River.

 

“Shame,” says the Doctor. “You’re right, that usually works.”

 

“We could drop a building on them?” River says.

 

They both look at her with their speculative looks – which are rather similar, now that River comes to think about it – so she assumes she’s at least vaguely onto something.

 

“What about…” says the Doctor.

 

“The spaceport!” says Joan.

 

“Brilliant!” he applauds.

 

“How the hell do we drop the spaceport on them?” River interjects. “It’s in orbit!”

 

“I can do it,” Joan says confidently.

 

“Good,” says the Doctor. “I’m going to draw them to the big park on the edge of the dome. River, you evacuate as many people as you can from that section. Then you, Joan, you crash the spaceport onto that spot in about twenty-eight minutes.”

 

Joan nods, taps her vortex manipulator, and disappears.

 

The Doctor winks, and then runs out into the street waving his hands. “Hey, Daleks! Look, it’s me, the Doctor!”

 

He immediately draws their fire and River winces, wondering how he’s ever going to make it all the way to the park without getting killed.

 

But she’s got her own job to worry about, so she tears her eyes away from him and down to look at her vortex manipulator.

 

It’s still out of power. Damn. She probably shouldn’t have used it to carve out extra time to work on her essay, true, but how was she supposed to know there would be a Dalek invasion?

 

Sighing, she heads off at a run for the city’s admin office.

 

The Daleks are all over the place. Not willing to risk a fire fight with a creature that apparently requires apocalyptic-level defences, River sacrifices a good few minutes by sneaking around and out of her way to avoid them. However, by the time she arrives at the building that houses the moon’s PA system their numbers have thinned significantly – she hopes this means the Doctor’s stupid plan is working.

 

Sometimes she marvels at the stupidity he displays.

 

And then she reminds herself that ‘display’ is exactly the right word. It’s very clever really. If she weren’t so vain she might consider imitating the tactic.

 

There’s an announcer already in the booth when she finds it, with a nervous technician hovering close by. River steels herself for an argument or even a fight, but they’re both too grateful to have someone present who seems to have even a vague idea of what’s going on to offer her any resistance.

 

Which is very convenient. She’ll have to remember that.

 

“Attention, citizens,” she says, taking the abandoned mic. “Hostile aliens are loose on Luna and congregating in Aldrin park. Citizens are instructed to vacate the area immediately. All other citizens are instructed to stay indoors. Do not attempt to engage the invaders. They are armed, armoured and extremely dangerous.”

 

Then she sits back, wondering what to do next.

 

She sure as hell isn’t going to sit back for long.

 

There’s only one thing to do, really.

 

River has no idea what Joan is doing to the spaceport, so she decides it’s best to stay out of her way and let her do her thing. Joan’s thing is normally pretty good, in the end at least, so she isn’t very worried about her.

 

The Doctor is also doing his thing. But the Doctor’s thing seems to consist of using himself as live bait, a tactic River doesn’t particularly approve of. He might already be in need of some backup.

 

She checks her manipulator again, but it’s still charging.

 

This time, she shoots all the Daleks on sight.

 

It might possibly be a little bit dangerous, but she’s been getting a bit wound up, surrounded by enemies she isn’t allowed to defend herself against. Besides which, she reasons, it will help draw more of them towards the park.

 

It’s also an excellent study of their defensive capabilities.

 

Their weapons are superbly well armoured – she quickly figures out that there’s not much point in trying to disable them through blaster fire. The rest of the body has similar shielding, though she’s sure she does a little bit of damage to a couple of them.

 

The eyestalk seems to be the most vulnerable point – there’s probably a trade-off involved there between the shield strength and the sensitivity of whatever instruments lurk inside. Handy, she decides, as she imagines that disabling that appendage will have a reasonably debilitating effect on the Dalek as a whole. Still, she doesn’t quite manage to find out; the worst she can do with any of her weapons only leaves the eyestalk smoking a little bit.

 

Clearly she needs better weapons.

 

She thinks of Joan’s mission and looks up instinctively… and is taken aback when she actually sees the spaceport barrelling down from the sky, blocking out the stars.

 

 _Oh my God_ , she thinks, awed.

 

None of the Daleks seems to have noticed yet; either that or they haven’t recognised the risk. River prays for it to stay that way.

 

Then she runs faster towards the planned impact site, ignoring the part of her that points out how supremely stupid that definitely is. That part of her is the boring part anyway.

 

She recognises the Doctor first by his laugh, directed at the Daleks and surprisingly free of malice… she files this away to consider later. Following the sound of his voice, she rounds a corner onto one of the paths leading into the park and discovers that the Doctor is somehow projecting a huge image of his face above the trees.

 

That’s one way to get the Daleks’ attention.

 

It freaks her out a bit though when its eyes appear to focus on her and widen with delight. “River! Excellent timing.”

 

“Where the hell are you?” River demands, still running along the path.

 

She immediately hears the sound of the TARDIS materialising in front of her – so close that she doesn’t have time to stop running, and has to thank God – or perhaps the Doctor… that’s an analogy she really doesn’t need – for the doors opening as soon as the blue box is solid, because River barrels into them and up to the console at top speed.

 

And of course, of _course_ the Doctor is right in her path.

 

She runs straight into him and they both topple to the floor, a mess of uncoordinated limbs.

 

And the Doctor, tangled up and trapped underneath her, laughs the most delighted laugh she’s ever heard.

 

“Hello sweetie,” he grins, looking up at her.

 

It’s infectious. So very, very infectious.

 

River leans a fraction closer, and presses her lips to his.

 

The Doctor’s hands fly up to bury themselves in her hair and an appreciative hum reverberates in his chest. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s clearly not surprised.

 

River… likes that.

 

But she isn’t given any more time to ponder this revelation because the TARDIS rocks suddenly; a _boom_ echoes around the room and sparks fly from the ceiling.

 

“Oops,” says the Doctor, squirming out from underneath her. “Forgot to put the cloak back on.”

 

They’re hit again, and River scrambles to her feet to face the door, pulling her gun from its holster. “Can they get in?”

 

“Nah,” he says dismissively. Another boom, and his confidence seems to drain a little. “Probably should get us out of here, though,” he adds.

 

The time rotor rumbles into motion and the booms stop; the Doctor is already bounding around the console for the next task. “Ah, spaceport scarily close, good,” he declares, pausing his perpetual motion for just a moment to study a display. “Aaaaand the Daleks have all reached the park, _very_ good.” He rubs his hands, almost with glee, almost enough to make her uncomfortable. “Now we just need to make sure they stay here until your clever friend drops it on them.”

 

“How do we do that?”

 

“We’ll have to be bait.” He scratches his temple. “Might need to go outside to do that. The projector trick tends to only work for so long.”

 

“And how do we not get killed, outside?”

 

He grins a rather unsettling grin and heads for the door, patting her on the shoulder as he passes her. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, dear.”

 

River frowns, and follows him out. “That is not reassuring.”

 

“It is to me!”

 

Seconds after they step outside the Doctor is nearly hit by a beam from a Dalek’s weapon – as it is, River pushes him behind a bush and he just gets singed.

 

“ _Exterminate_ ,” the Dalek drones, and River shoots into the trees above them to drop burning branches in its path. She turns to pull the Doctor up, only to find him already standing there beside her, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning besottedly.

 

“Told you,” he says.

 

He is _infuriating_.

 

“Come on,” she says, dragging him around the TARDIS so that the ship is between them and the oncoming attackers. She doesn’t want to get too far away, she thinks, glancing again towards the sky and the rapidly descending spaceport – and then she winces as another Dalek beam hits the blue paint beside her. On the other hand, she decides, pulling the Doctor behind her, there’s probably better cover in the trees.

 

She shoves him over to a wide trunk and hides behind it to keep an eye on the area around the TARDIS; so far only a couple of Daleks have ventured this close, and while that’s good on the _not dying_ front it’s not so great on the _keep the Daleks here_ one.

 

“I think we need to make ourselves a bit more visible,” she mutters.

 

The Doctor fumbles for his sonic screwdriver, but River has a better idea. She changes the setting on her gun.

 

Sending a silent apology to the TARDIS, she takes aim at the bulb on top and pulls the trigger.

 

A huge shaft of light explodes upwards into the sky, and the noise of a hundred eyestalks moving up to watch it and then down to find the source is almost audible.

 

River glances back at the Doctor to find him gaping at her with an uncertain mix of shock and awe… and then the awe crystallises and the uncertainty disappears, and suddenly he’s kissing her.

 

Adrenaline is pumping through her veins and all her senses are heightened and this is _bliss_.

 

Ignoring the approaching hordes around them, she brings her free hand up and slips her thumb underneath his bowtie on the side of his neck, grasping it and anchoring herself before she sighs happily and deepens the kiss, with the enemies all around and impending death blocking out the stars and the psychic spark between their lips letting her know just how much the Doctor is feeling all of the same things as she is, and it’s the most exhilarating kiss she’s ever experienced.

 

Something barrels into her, _hard_ , and suddenly the moment is broken and she’s lying on top of the Doctor, who’s hit his head on the tree and is bleeding onto her sleeve. She looks back, bringing her gun around at the same time as her eyes, but it’s only Joan kneeling beside her, looking guilty.

 

“Sorry,” she whispers, looking at the Doctor. “That’s going to smart.” She glances upwards and shakes her head, hurrying to her feet and grabbing his arm. “Help me get him back to the TARDIS.”

 

River can’t help but look upwards as well before she obeys, but when she does she obeys _quickly_.

 

Now that she’s aware of it, she wonders how on Luna she didn’t notice before that they’re all about to be flattened.

 

She takes the Doctor’s other arm and runs with Joan back to the TARDIS, narrowly dodging two shots from the Daleks before hauling him inside.

 

“Close the door!” Joan yells, dropping him and sprinting for the console.

 

River does as she’s told, then turns to help – but it’s clear that Joan doesn’t need any assistance.

 

The time rotor is moving and her hands are almost caressing the controls as she looks up at it, an expression of pure bliss on her face.

 

The Doctor groans, reaching up to touch the wound on his forehead. “Everyone alive?” he croaks.

 

River nods, smiling. “Yours is the only collateral damage.”

 

“Oh.” He frowns and then, belatedly, gives her a thumbs-up. Then he stares at his fingers, smeared in blood from his wound.

 

“We should get you cleaned up,” River says, helping him to his feet.

 

“’S just a scratch…”

 

“Check him for concussion,” Joan’s voice calls from the console.

 

River takes that to mean that she isn’t going to interrupt her communion with the TARDIS to help get the Doctor to the medical bay.

 

Fair enough. She still hasn’t figured out how Joan really feels about him. Sometimes she talks about him almost affectionately. Sometimes she calls him an idiot – also almost affectionately. And sometimes River swears, even though Joan has done nothing but encourage her relationship with the Doctor, that she’s at least a little bit jealous.

 

The Doctor stumbles on the steps, and tugs her thoughts back to him. She pulls him up and briefly considers slinging him over her shoulders, but decides in the end that he’s too conscious for that. If he objects and squirms she might drop him on his head.

 

She pulls his arm more firmly over her shoulders instead, manoeuvring him carefully along the corridors she can somehow navigate with her eyes closed – she really can, she’s checked. After she gets him through the doors of the medical bay but just _before_ she gets him on the bed, he turns pale and vomits all over her shoes.

 

“Concussion,” she says slowly, standing still and trying to forget how much she loves those shoes. “Right.”

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

 

“Never mind,” she says with a sigh.

 

If she puts him down slightly unceremoniously, that is purely accidental.

 

Getting him to sit still while she runs the scanner over him is challenging – he keeps following her movements with his head, staring at her with a goofy grin on his face. Honestly, he’s worse than Joan. But eventually it confirms the diagnosis of concussion and River pushes him firmly by the shoulders until he’s lying down. “You need rest,” she declares, putting a basin on the nightstand by his head, just in case of more vomit.

 

She tries not to look at her shoes.

 

“Yeah.” He nods slowly. “Tired.”

 

“Dooooon’t close your eyes,” River says quickly, reaching for the controls which will raise him into a sitting position. “You mustn’t rest that hard.”

 

“Oh right.” He nods again. “Concussion.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Right.”

 

They sit in silence, the Doctor still nodding his head. If she’s got to keep him from falling asleep that means she can’t leave his side, which means she can’t ask Joan about… _anything_.

 

How did she crash the spaceport?

 

How does she feel about catching River kissing the Doctor?

 

How the hell can she fly the TARDIS?

 

River pushes all of these questions away and tries to think of something to keep the Doctor talking and therefore, she hopes, awake.

 

“My boots are clean,” she realises suddenly.

 

“Oh, yeah. The TARDIS. She does that.”

 

“That’s handy,” she says appreciatively.

 

“It is unless you wanted to analyse the vomit on your shoes but it’s already being incinerated and vented into the time vortex.”

 

River laughs. “Does that happen often?” She pulls up a stool, bringing herself down to his eye level.

 

“More often than you might think.” He nods again, solemnly.

 

“What other things happen more often than I might think?” she asks. Perhaps there’s a lengthy list he can go through.

 

His expression turns serious, and she feels a jolt of dismay; she didn’t mean to turn him serious.

 

“Joan,” he says. River frowns and is about to demand clarification, but he continues of his own accord. “Others. I know there are others. I just want to let you know that that’s okay. Because, you know. It’s not like I haven’t married someone else once or twice.”

 

River relaxes. “I did read something about Elizabeth the First,” she says, smirking.

 

And she tries not to overanalyse the phrase _married someone else_ too much.

 

“Ahh, good old Elizabeth.” The Doctor smiles. “I wonder if she still wants to kill me.”

 

“You do seem to have a thing for women who want to kill you.”

 

“Well.” He shrugs, eyes drifting shut again. “Everyone has a type.”

 

River shakes him. “Unfortunately I would quite like you to stay alive right now. Which means staying awake, please.”

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s a myth that you need to stay awake if you’ve got a concussion.”

 

“Pretty sure,” River repeats.

 

“Pretty sure.” His nod is slower than ever.

 

“Anywhere I can check that without risking you falling asleep while I’m doing so?”

 

The Doctor gestures vaguely at a monitor on the other side of the room. River stands and makes her way towards it.

 

Before she’s even reached it there’s a loud snore from behind her.

 

She turns back.

 

The Doctor is fast asleep and he’s… pretty adorable.

 

River sighs.

 

He’ll probably be fine, she decides. If something as mundane as a nap could kill him, she would surely know about it.

 

She tucks a blanket around him before going off in search of Joan.

 

* * *

 

In the console room, her wife is whispering to the TARDIS.

 

She starts when she hears River come in behind her, and turns quickly away from the controls, looking guilty.

 

River snorts. “Is there _anything_ you don’t know?”

 

Joan gapes, but finds some words. “Of course there is. I don’t know how to calculate the area of a cross section of a Vashubian Wing Snake. I mean of course there are approxinations, integration, interpolation, all that… but I’m _sure_ there’s a simple formula, I just haven’t found it yet.” She runs down, twiddling her thumbs and looking a bit miserable. “…I also don’t know what I’m going to do when I have to say goodbye to you.”

 

“You don’t have to say goodbye,” River says, automatically. She hates _have tos_. She hates absolutes.

 

“Yes, River, I really do.”

 

“The Doctor… he just basically told me he doesn’t mind if I see other people. What does that mean for us? We could…“ she trails off, not really sure what they could, or could not.

 

Joan looks down, shaking her head. “You know we don’t have a future together, River.”

 

River frowns. “Why aren’t you jealous? Of the Doctor – how can you push me towards him the way you do?”

 

“I know that you’re happy. I’m really _happy_ that you’re happy.” The little smile on her face as she speaks almost makes River believe her.

 

“I can’t be happy without you,” she counters stubbornly.

 

“You can and you will.”

 

“I don’t _want_ to!”

 

Why _that_ is what cracks Joan’s façade, she has no idea. But suddenly her wife is striding toward her, struggling and ultimately failing to keep a brave face, and burying herself in River’s arms.

 

“Neither do I,” Joan says eventually. River has to strain to make out the words.

 

“So let’s do something about it.”

 

“There’s nothing to be done.”

 

“There’s always a way out,” River insists.

 

For whatever reason, that makes Joan smile, and she pulls away just enough to cup River’s face in her hands. “That’s why I love you,” she says.

 

River feels tears starting to sting her eyes, so she leans forward and kisses Joan so that she can’t see.

 

But she can’t do anything once they leak onto her cheeks and down onto Joan’s fingers.

 

“Don’t cry,” she whispers, and River feels her smile when she kisses her again. “Chin Boy is going to be asleep for hours. Let’s steal the TARDIS and have some fun.”

 

The degree to which that cheers River up should probably be embarrassing.

 

Joan laughs at the look in her eyes and dances away, back to the console, and pilots them expertly all the way to the end of the universe.

 

* * *

 

The next time River is struggling to finish an essay she doesn’t hesitate to call the Doctor. He whisks her off to the other end of the galaxy, they accidentally invade a small moon, and she writes ten thousand words.

 

He even gives her her own key to the TARDIS.

 

And when he drops her back home Joan is gone.

 

* * *

 

 _Dear_ _River_ _,_ the note reads.

 

_I’m sorry to leave this way. I know you will hate me for it. But I’m not sure that I could tear myself away from you if I tried to say goodbye in person. I would be too tempted to spend all of eternity pretending that the future doesn’t need to happen. But I’m afraid it’s getting too close, and if I stay any longer the results could be catastrophic._

_I know you would say that you didn’t care, and I wouldn’t be able to disagree with you._

_Look after the Doctor. He is an idiot ~~sometimes~~ often, but he needs you. You have no idea how much._

_I love you. Never doubt that._

_And stop doubting yourself. You are good, and you are right, and you are the strongest person I know. You can do anything you set your mind to. Yes, that is a spoiler._

_All my love, always_

_Your wife x_

 

\--

 

 

_It ends in a library. It always ends in a library._

_“Your owners,” says Madam Kovarian’s voice._

_The Doctor cringes at the sound of River struggling, but she can’t interfere._

_She can’t look away, either, from her little window between the books through which she watches the horrors going on in the next aisle of the_ _Luna_ _University_ _Library. This could be her last chance to ever see her wife. Even though it hurts, she can’t tear her eyes away from River; brave, perfect new Doctor Song who is struggling against her captors even though she must know it’s hopeless, even though she’s drugged and outnumbered._

_The Doctor is glad when it’s over for River’s sake, but she can’t help the sigh that escapes her lips._

_This might really be it._

_…but how many times has she thought that, now?_

_“I’m never going to be done grieving you, am I?” she mutters, leaning her forehead against the shelf and closing her eyes._

 

“No,” says River’s voice behind her. “Probably not.”

 

The Doctor whirls around, knocking half a dozen books to the ground in her shock.

 

Her wife stands across from her, in front of the TARDIS – the TARDIS! She’d thought she’d never see her again, either! – wearing her red parachute dress.

 

Wearing her _red_ parachute dress.

 

“You’re not the same River I just watched being dragged away by Kovarian, are you?” the Doctor says, stating the obvious.

 

“Obviously,” River confirms. She tilts her head, a smile playing at her lips. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

 

“Your second wife.” The Doctor shrugs.

 

“And my first husband.” The smile blooms now, lighting up her face. “Two hearts, stupid clothes… I should’ve known.”

 

“Yes well,” the Doctor says, for want of anything better. “I think we’ve established that you’re not very good at recognising me when I’m wearing a face you don’t know.”

 

“Clearly.” The smile falters. “You broke my hearts, you know.”

 

Guilt pulls at her. “I’m sorry. I had to.”

 

“I understand that now,” River acknowledges slowly.

 

“If it helps,” the Doctor offers, “you’ve broken my hearts more times than I can count.”

 

The smile turns sad. “Oh, Doctor…” she says.

 

Two small steps from both of them and they’re in each other’s arms, pressing their lips together so hard it almost hurts, as if that can put their hearts back together too.

 

Perhaps it can.

 

“I’ve missed you,” the Doctor confesses.

 

“Me too,” River whispers. “Always.”

 

“You’ve come from Darillium,” she states.

 

“Yes. You were asleep. I… couldn’t.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here.” The Doctor hugs her closer again.

 

River sniffles. “Me too.” A pause. “Though I can think of better places for this happy reunion.”

 

The Doctor snorts. “Lead the way. All I’ve got is this stupid thing.” She waves the wrist her vortex manipulator is strapped to without really stepping out of River’s embrace.

 

“Where’s the TARDIS?”

 

She shrugs. “Who knows? She just spat me out over your hovercar back on New Earth, I’ve been looking for her ever since…”

 

“Hmm.” River pulls back, eyes twinkling. “I might have an idea of where you could find her.”

 

-

 

Which is how they end up on the roof of the Primal Jewel hotel on Lake Sapphire, eating expensive trout and enjoying the view.

 

Two versions of the TARDIS sit side by side on the other side of the terrace’s restaurant.

 

It reminds the Doctor of a restaurant on a balcony in another galaxy, what feels like a million years ago.

 

“I found her here years ago,” River says, delicately cutting her food as she inclines her head in the direction of the blue boxes. “She wouldn’t budge.” She smiles. “Maybe she will, now she’s got you back.”

 

“It’s been a while,” the Doctor says, following her gaze with longing. She can’t wait to step back inside – but that would mean parting from River again, and she’s not sure she can do that twice in one day.

 

“Were you really on Luna all that time?” River demands. “Even after you left me?”

 

The Doctor shrugs. “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again, if I left – _really_ left. So I… kept an eye on you.”

 

“That’s really sweet.” She looks at her sharply. “As well as really ridiculous. You couldn’t change what was going to happen to me the first time, what made you think you could make any difference with a second?”

 

“That… wasn’t what it was about.” She shrugs again, more slowly this time. “I just missed you.”

 

“Doctor.” River’s tone turns more serious. “Please tell me you haven’t been pining after me since Darillium.”

 

She’s tempted to confess (again) her undying love by saying that yes, of course, she’s missed her every second of every day – which is absolutely true – but that’s not what River wants to hear. So she tells her a different truth.

 

“There was some pining. But I made a friend – Bill, you would like her – and Nardole prodded me along when I needed it, just like you told him to… If I hadn’t fallen into your lap when I was in the middle of regenerating I might have been okay.” She smiles, raising a shoulder. “Oh well.”

 

“You know I’ve got to go back to Darillium.”

 

“I know.” She sighs – and then River’s eyes begin to twinkle.

 

“But not yet,” River says.

 

“Well,” says the Doctor, trying not to let the hope rising in her hearts give rise to too soppy a facial expression. “We have got a time machine.”

 

“Two time machines,” River corrects. The corners of her mouth twitch upwards.

 

The Doctor’s smile goes beyond soppy and approaches ecstatic.

 

“Not yet,” she agrees, and laughs out loud.

 

**_End_ **


End file.
